The correspondence of Honoré de Balzac

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HONORE de BALZAC

VOL. I.

LONDON : PRINTED BY

•POTTI8WOODB AND CO., NBW-STRBBT SQUARE

AND PARLIAMENT STREET

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THE CORRESPONDENCE

OF

HONORÉ de JJALZAC

WITH A MEMOIR BY HIS SISTER
MADAME DE SURVILLE

TRANSLATED by C. LAMB KENNEY

W&\ ^portrait trah <£a»hmlt of % ^aniitoritbg of Saljar

JN TWO VOLUMES
VOL, I.

LONDON
RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET

(JnMufetti in «tHimira la $ir gtnj[il G % Quia

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MEMOIRS AND LETTERS

OF

BALZAC.

*o»

INTRODUCTION.

By MADAME LAURA SURVILLE.

Note. — The Editor thinks that the best Introduction which
could be prefixed to Balzac's Letters is this biographical notice,
written and published by his sister, Madame Laura Surville,
some time after the death of her brother.

The characteristics of the parents have so much
influence over the moral and physical condition of
their children, that some account of our father and
mother is necessary, for it will explain many
things in the early life of my brother.

My father was born, in 1746, in Languedoc.
He was avocat in the Council under Louis XVI.
His position brought him into relations with many
of the remarkable personages of that day, and also
with some of the men who became famous during

you h M B

2 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

the Revolution. These intimacies with both
parties enabled him in 1 793 to save more than
one of his old friends and patrons. These
services involved him in some danger; but an
influential member of the Convention, who took an
interest in Citoyen Balzac, lost no time in removing
him from Robespierre's remembrance by despatch-
ing him to the North, to organise the commissariat
of the army.

Thrown thus into the employment of the War
Department, my father remained in it, and at the
period of his marriage (1 797) he was still attached
to the commissariat of the twenty-second military
division. He married the daughter of the head of
his department, who was also the director of the
hospitals in Paris.

My father resided for nineteen years at Tours,
where he purchased a house standing in its own
grounds.

After he had been ten years resident he was
offered the mayoralty ; but he declined this honour
because it would have interfered with his duties as
director of the great hospital at Tours, of which
he had undertaken the charge.

My father seemed to have inherited his origin-
ality, humour, and benevolence from Montaigne,
Rabelais, and ' Uncle Toby.' Like ' Uncle Toby'

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 3

he had a hobby. With my father this was health.
He was so happy and comfortable himself, that he
desired to live as long as he possibly could. He
had calculated that, according to the years required
for a man to reach his prime, the years of his life
ought to be a hundred, or even more. In order
to attain to the utmost, he took extraordinary care
of himself, and paid unceasing attention to the
preservation of what he called ' the equilibrium of
the vital powers.'

After his marriage he had an additional reason
for wishing to live as long as possible ; for at the
age of forty-five, being then unmarried and not
contemplating marriage, he sunk the greater
portion of his money in annuities, partly in Govern-
ment securities, and partly in the Lafarge tontine,
which was just then instituted, and to the funds of
which he was one of the largest subscribers.
Owing to waste and mismanagement it did not
yield as it ought to have done ; still when he died
in 1829, at the age of eighty-three, from the effects
of an accident, he was drawing an income of
twelve thousand francs per annum, and he was
very sanguine that he would survive all his com-
panions, and share with Government the immense
capital of the tontine.

Under all losses and reverses he used to say,

B 2

4 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

m

4 Laîarge will one day make up for all ; ' and he
was constantly exhorting his family to take care of
their health, in order that they might enjoy the
millions he would be sure to leave behind him.

The originality of his sayings and doings was
proverbial in Tours. He could neither say nor do
anything like other people; Hoffmann would have
adopted him into his fantastic stories.

My father was often bitterly sarcastic. He
used to say that mankind work incessantly to
bring about their own misfortunes ; and he
could never see a deformed or very ugly person
without grieving bitterly, indignant that govern-
ments should bestow so much more pains upon
improving the breed of animals than upon amelior-
ating the moral and physical conditions of the

m

human race.

1 But what/ he would exclaim, as he paced up
and down the room in his fine silk dressing-gown,
with his head sunk in the folds of the enormous
cravat — a fashion which he retained from the
Directory — ' what is the good of saying all this ?
People will only say I am eccentric [an epithet
which made him furious] ; and there will be never a
rickety etiolated creature born the less ! Human
nature is incorrigible ; and yet the creature always
young, always old, goes on for ever — fortunately

• MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 5

for us and for our successors/ he would add with
a smile.

He did not, however, mock at humanity when
there was an opportunity to be of use to those who
needed help.

Epidemics were not unfrequent in the hospital.
At the time when it was crowded by the soldiers
who were returning from Spain, a severe epidemic
broke out. My father then took up his abode in
the hospital; and, # forgetting all about his own
health, he watched over the sick, displaying a zeal
which, coming from him, might truly be termed
devotion.

He succeeded in putting an end to many
abuses, without taking any heed to the enmities
to which this sort of conduct gives rise. He
also introduced many improvements into this
hospital.

My father was never at a loss for a reply. One
day some one was reading to him an article in a
newspaper about a centenarian. He interrupted
the reader to exclaim with enthusiasm —

' Ah ! that man lived wisely ; he did not
squander his health and strength in all manner of
excesses, like the imprudent young men of our
day.' On reading further, however, it appeared
that this wise and prudent-living man used fre-

6 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

quently to get drunk, and that he ate supper every
night — which my father considered was one of the
greatest enormities which could be committed
against health. When my father heard this he
said calmly, ' That man shortened his life ; that
is all/

My mother — young, beautiful, and much
younger than her husband — was endowed with
rare brilliancy of wit and imagination; she
possessed indefatigable activity, great firmness and
decision of character, and her devoted attachment
to her children and friends knew no bounds.

My brother was born at Tours, May 16, 1799,
on the day of St Honorius. This name pleased
my father, who bestowed it on his son, although
there had been no precedent for it in the family on
either side.

My mother had lost her first child in the en-
deavour to suckle it herself. An excellent nurse
was found for the little Honoré. She resided near
the gate of the town, in a good, well-ventilated
house, surrounded by gardens. Here he throve
so well that, when I came into the world, I also
was committed to her care ; and Honoré remained
with her until he was four years old, when we
returned to the home of our parents together.
The excellent health of Honoré preserved my

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. f

mother from all those anxieties which generally
take the shape of over-indulgence. Children in
those days were not made of the importance
which is the fashion now ; they were kept in the
background, and taught to be respectful and obe-
dient to their parents.

Mdlle. Delahaye, who had the charge of us,
was possibly a little too strict on this point, for she
inspired us with fear of our parents as well as
respect. My brother long retained a vivid recol-
lection of the terrors that used to seize us when we
were taken to say ' Good morning ' to our mother,
and when we had to go into her sitting-room in
the evening to say ' Good night.' Although these
ceremonies were repeated every day, they never
ceased to be awful. To be sure my mother on
these occasions professed to read upon our faces
the faults we had committed during the day
(of which, of course, she had been informed) ; and
these faults always brought upon us her severe
reprimands, for she alone punished or rewarded
us. Honoré was neither transformed into a
prodigy nor yet flattered at the age when
children only judge the love of their parents by
smiles and caresses. If he early showed any of
the traits which afterwards distinguished him,
nobody remarked on them nor remembered

8 % MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

them. He was a lovely and charming child. His
bright humour ; his beautifully formed mouth,
which always smiled; his large brown eyes, at
once soft and sparkling ; his fine forehead and rich
black hair, attracted admiring remarks from all
who passed us in our daily walks.

Honoré was the eldest ; after him came two
sisters and a brother. Our youngest sister died
young, after she had been married five years. Our
other brother went to the -colonies, where he
married and settled.

When Honoré was born, there was every pro-
mise that his prospects in life would be ex-
cellent. The fortune of our mother, and that of
our maternal grandmother, who came, after the
death of her husband, to reside with us, together
with the emoluments and annuities of my father,
made up a large income for our family.

My mother devoted herself entirely to our
education ; but as she thought fit to exercise
great strictness, which was almost severity, towards
us, to neutralise what she considered the over-
indulgence of our father and grandmother, this
austerity on the part of my mother had the effect
of repressing the tender, expansive nature of
Honoré, whilst the age and gravity of my father
made my brother in those early days feel reserved

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. Ç

towards him. This state of things, however,
strengthened and intensified the bond of affection
between Honoré and myself. Brotherly love was
certainly the earliest sentiment in his heart. I
was only two years his junior, and stood exactly in
the same relation towards our parents ; brought
up together, we loved each other tenderly. He
was good to me ever since I can remember any-
thing. I shall never forget the quickness with
which he once ran to save me from falling down
three steep, unequal steps which led from our
nurse's room into the garden. His affectionate
protection continued the same when we returned
to our father's house. Many were the times when
he let himself be punished for my faults without
ever betraying my guilt. When I happened to
come up in time to take the blame on myself, he
would say —

1 Another time, do not own to anything. I like
to be scolded instead of you/

One never forgets such traits of innocent self-
devotion.

A fortunate concurrence of circumstances
preserved our friendship on its early footing. We
always continued to live near each other, in an
unchanged affection and an unreserved intimacy.
1 have always known the joys and sorrows of

IO MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

my brother, and I never lost the privilege of
sharing them. The certainty of all I was able to
be to him is my great consolation now that he
is no more.

When Honoré became of an age to under-
stand and appreciate his father, the latter was a
handsome old man, still strong and energetic,
with courteous manners, seldom speaking of him-
self, full of indulgence for the young, in whom he
delighted, leaving to everyone the freedom he
desired for himself. His judgment was sound and
upright ; and, in spite of his eccentricities, his
temper was so equal, and his nature so sweet, that
he made everybody happy who lived with him. H is
highly cultivated intellect made him watch with
delight the progress of science and of social im-
provements, of which he foresaw from their com-
mencement their influence upon the future. My
father's earnest conversations and curious histories
gave his son an insight into the science of life,
and furnished the groundwork of more than one
of his works.

The great event of my brother's childhood
was a journey to Paris. My mother took him
there in 1804, to present him to his grandparents.
They were enchanted with their lovely grand-
child, and loaded him with caresses and presents.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. II

Little accustomed to be made much of, Honoré
returned home with his head full of delightful
recollections, and with his heart filled with love
for these charming grandparents, of whom he
talked to me without ceasing, and did his best to
describe, not omitting their house, their beautiful
garden, and above all ' Mouche/ the great watch-
dog, with whom he had been especially intimate.
This visit to Paris served to fill his imagination
for a long time. Some months after this visit
Honored brown silk vest and its beautiful light-
blue sash were taken away, and he was dressed
in mourning instead. His dear grandpapa had
died suddenly in a fit of apoplexy. It was his
first grief. He cried bitterly when they told him
he would never see his grandfather more ; and
the remembrance remained so fixed in his mind
that long after this sorrowful day, seeing me once
seized with laughter that I could not control
when my mother was giving me a reprimand, he
came up to me, and, by way of putting a stop to
this boisterous laughter, which was beginning to
make me ill, he whispered in a tragical tone—
1 Think of the death of grandpapa.'
Hitherto what I have said of the early years
of Honoré reveals rather his goodness than his
intelligence. I recollect, however, that he used to

12 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

display his imagination in those childish games that
George Sand so well describes in her ' Memoirs/
My brother used to invent and improvise little
plays, which used to amuse us greatly ; and he
used for hours together to scrape the strings of a
little red violin. His face, radiant with delight,
showed that he, at least, felt that he was listening
to melodies. He was much astonished whenever
I entreated him to put an end to this music,
which would have set Mouche howling.

1 You do not understand how beautiful it is/
he would reply.

Like most children, he used to be passionately
fond of fairy tales. They no doubt inspired him
with other stories ; for sometimes, after a long
continuance of bewildering chatter, he would fall
into long periods of silence, which at that time
were set down to fatigue, but which might also
be reveries in the world of imagination.

When my brother was seven years old he
ceased to be a day scholar at Tours, and was
sent to the College of Vendôme, which at that
time had a high reputation. He remained seven
years at this college, which gave no holidays.

We used to go to visit him every year at
Easter, when there was the distribution of prizes.
He was seldom successful in these competitions,

MEMOIR OF BALZAC, 1 3

and he received more reproach than praise during
those days to which he had looked forward with
so much delight

The remembrance of this period inspired the
first part of his book ' Louis Lambert* In this
first part Louis Lambert and Balzac are one in
two persons. College life, with the events of
every day — what he suffered, what he thought —
are all true — even to the incident of the Trea-
tise on the Will, which one of the professors flung
into the fire without reading, in his rage at finding
that, instead of what he had ordered. My brother
always regretted the loss of this manuscript — it
was a specimen of what he was at that period of
his life.

He was fourteen years of age when M.
Mareschal, the director of the college, wrote to
my mother, between Easter and the prize day,
desiring her to come instantly to take away her
son. He had fallen into a state of coma, which
alarmed the masters all the more that they could
form no conjecture about the cause. They had
always considered my brother an idle scholar, so
they were far from attributing his cerebral attack
to the fatigue of over-work.

Honoré had become thin and poor-looking;
he was like those somnambulists who sleep with

14 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

their eyes open. He did not hear half that was
said to him, and could not have replied if he had
been abruptly asked, ' Where are you ? What
are you thinking about ? '

None of us ever forgot the astonishment of
the whole family at the sight of Honoré when my
mother brought him home from Vendôme.

1 So ! ' cried my grandmother dolefully, ' this
is the condition in which the College gives us
back the pretty boys we have sent there ! '

My father, who at first was very uneasy at the
condition of his son, was soon reassured when
he saw that change of scene, plenty of fresh air,
and the healthy influence of family intercourse
began to restore the vivacity and gaiety of ado-
lescence, which was then commencing for him.

This curious condition, which he afterwards
accounted for, arose, to use his own words,
from a congestion of ideas. Unknown to the
professors, he had read through most of the books
in the rich library of the college, collected by the
learned oratorians who were the founders and
proprietors of this enormous institution, where
three hundred pupils were received. It was in
the place of solitary confinement to which he
contrived to be committed every day that he
had read these solid works, which developed his

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 1 5

mind at the expense of his body, just at the age
when the physical powers need to be exercised at
least as much as those of the intellect.

The classification of the ideas thus obtained
took place gradually in his powerful memory,
wherein he was already storing up the incidents
and characters that passed before him.

These recollections served him in later years
for those wonderful 'Scènes de la Vie de Pro-
vince/

Moved inwardly towards a vocation he did
not as yet understand, he was led instinctively
and unconsciously to studies and observations
which were to prepare him for his future labours
and to impart to them their rich fertility.

He amassed materials without knowing the
purpose they were destined to serve.

Some of the types in ' La Comédie humaine '
date from this period.

During the long walks which my mother
insisted upon, he began to see and admire with
the eyes of an artist the soft and beautiful scenery
of his beloved Touraine, which he afterwards de-
scribed so well.

He would stand silently to watch the splendid
sunsets lighting up the Gothic towers of Tours,
the villages scattered on all sides, and the majestic

1 6 MEMOIB OF BALZAC.

Loire covered with sailing vessels, great and
small.

M y mother, however, desired he should take
exercise instead of falling into reveries, and she
obliged him to help our young brother fly his kite,
or to run races with me and my sister. He then
forgot all about the beauty of the landscape, and
became the youngest and the gayest of the four
children who surrounded my mother.

She took us every saints' day to the Cathedral
of St Gatien, and there Honoré could dream as
much as he pleased. None of the poetry or splen-
dour of this fine building were lost upon him. He
remembered everything — the wonderful effects of
light as it streamed through the old glass windows ;
the clouds of incense which enveloped those who
swung the censers ; and all the majestic ceremonial
of the service, which was made still more splendid
by the presence of the Cardinal Archbishop.

The physiognomies of the priests, which he
studied on those occasions, enabled him in after
days to create the Abbés Birotteau and Lorau ;
and the Curé Bonnet, whose tranquil soul is so
finely in contrast with the remorse of the repent-
ant Veronica.

This cathedral made so profound an impres
sion upon my brother's mind, that the mere name

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 1 7

of • St. Gatien ' always awoke in him worlds of
recollections in which the pure fresh feelings of
early youth and religious sentiments (which he
never lost) were mingled with the manly thoughts
which were even then taking shape in that power-
ful brain.

He was attended by various masters at home,
and followed with them the course of college
study.

He began to say that one day he would make
S J the world talk of him ; and these expressions, at
which everybody laughed, became the source of
constant raillery. In the name of this future
celebrity he had to endure a great deal of teasing —
little pricks and stings, the prelude of more severe
ones in after life. The apprenticeship was not
without its use.

He took all our jokes in good part (he was
always laughing in those happy days). Never was
there a more lovable creature ; but also there
never was anyone who earlier developed the
desire to become celebrated, or the intuitive
certainty that he would attain success.

Those around him, however, were very far
from encouraging or cultivating these ideas. My
brother, as I have said, was under a feeling of
restraint before our parents ; he thought more

vol. i. C

ko

1 8 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

than he spoke when in their presence. They, not
knowing the cause of this, shared the opinion of
his masters, who saw in him nothing but a very
commonplace boy, who needed much urging
on to make him learn his Greek and Latin
lessons.

Our mother, who paid more attention to him
than anyone, was so far from suspecting what her
eldest son really was, or what he promised one
day to become, that she set down to accident the
sagacious remarks and reflections which sometimes
escaped him.

'You certainly do not know what you are
talking about, Honoré/ she would say on these
occasions.

He would only reply by the sweet, subtle smile
peculiar to him. This eloquent though silent pro-
test provoked my mother when she happened to
see it, and she called it arrogance and presump-
tion.

Honoré never ventured to defend himself to
her, nor to explain the meaning either of his smile
or of his ideas.

Towards the close of 1814 my father was
called to Paris to undertake the direction of the
commissariat of the first military division.

Honoré continued his studies under M. Lepitre,

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 1 9

of the Rue Saint-Louis, and MM. Sganzer and
Beuzelin, of the Rue Thorigny, in the Marais, where
we resided. Honoré did not distinguish himself
here, any more than he had done at the Colleges
of Tours and Vendôme.

When it came to making his essays in rhetoric,
he began to perceive and become enamoured of
the beauties of the French language.

I have preserved one of his competition pieces,
' The Speech of the Wife of Brutus to her Husband
after the Condemnation of his Sons/ The grief of
the mother is given with great power, and there
was already promise of the faculty which my
brother possessed of entering into the heart of his
characters.

When he was seventeen and a half his course
of study in class terminated, and in 1816 he
returned home for the third time.

My mother, who considered industry the found-
ation of all education, understood thoroughly the
value of time : she did not allow her son to be a
moment idle.

He received lessons in the branches of learn-
ing which had been neglected in college, and
he followed the courses of lectures at the Sor-
bonne.

I remember well his enthusiasm about the bril-

Ç2

20 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

liant lectures of Villemain, Guizot, Cousin. It
was with a sort of passion that he tried to make
us understand and share his own delight in all he
heard. He went to read in the public libraries, to
be able the better to enter into the instruction of
the illustrious professors.

During his peregrinations at this period through
the Quartier Latin he bought, in old book shops
on the quays, many rare and valuable works,
which even then he knew how to choose. These

formed the nucleus of that splendid collection of
books which his constant relations with book-
sellers rendered in time complete. Originally it

had been his intention to bequeath this collection
of books to his native city ; but his fellow-citizens
wounded his feelings so deeply by the indifference
they manifested whenever he visited Tours, that
he altered his intention. 1

My father wished Honoré to go through a
course of legal study for three years with an avoué
and a notary, and to pass all the examinations, in

1 M. Brun, prefect in 1856 of the Indre-et-Loire, an old companion
of my brother at the College of Vendôme, in concert with M. Mame,
Mayor of Tours, brother of the well-known publisher who published
Balzac's early works, placed an inscription over the house where
the author of the ' Comédie humaine ' was born ; it was not, how-
ever, the house in which he passed his childhood. The house,
which was my father's, belonged in 1856 to the Comtesse
d'Outremont, a friend of our family.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 21

order to obtain a thorough knowledge of all the
forms, proceedings, and meanings of the practice of
law. He used to say that the education of no man
could be complete unless he were acquainted with
the forms of ancient and modern legislation, more
especially with those of his own country.

Honoré accordingly entered the office of our
friend M. de Merville. M. Scribe had just quitted
it. After remaining eighteen months with this
avoué, he was received by M. Passez, a notary,

with whom he remained for the like period. M.
Passez was one of our intimate friends, and lived
in the house where we were residing. This will
account for the minute fidelity of Balzac's de-
scriptions of the interior of lawyers offices, and of
the great legal knowledge he evinces. I once
found his book ' César Birotteau 9 in the office of a
lawyer in Paris. It was placed on the shelves along
with standard works on the law, and the lawyer
assured me it was an excellent book of reference in
matters of bankruptcy.

My brother in those days worked very hard ;
for, in addition to his cours de droit and the work
which his employers gave him to do, he had also to
prepare for his successive examinations. However,
his industry, his memory, and his facility for work
were so great that he still found time to spend his

22 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

evenings at the whist or boston table of my
grandmother, where this dear and excellent woman
always forced him to be a winner, by means of her
own mistakes made for the purpose. The money
thus gained he devoted to buying books. He
always loved these games, in memory of her ; he
used to recall her words and ways, and one of
them unexpectedly remembered always seemed to
him a happiness snatched from the grave.

Sometimes my brother used to accompany us
to balls ; but having one night an ignominious fall,
in spite of the lessons he had received from one of
the ballet-masters of the Opera, he renounced danc-
ing for ever, so keenly did he feel the smiles from
the women which followed his disaster. After that
he became merely a spectator at these amusements,
and in later days he turned the recollection of them
to use. At the age of twenty-one he had terminated
his legal studies and passed all his examinations.
My father unfolded to him his plans for the future,
which would have enabled Honoré to make a
fortune : but a fortune was just then the thing he
cared the least about

My father had in former days materially

assisted a man, whom he met with again in 1814

as a notary in Paris.

This man was very grateful, and wished to

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 23

repay to the son the benefit he had received from
the father. He offered to take Honoré into his
office, and to let him have the whole of his practice,
after a few years of probation, on advantageous
terms. But to my brother the idea of being
bowed down for possibly ten years under the
drudgery of drawing up marriage contracts,
inventories, bills of sale, &c, was unbearable — he,
who was then secretly dreaming of literary fame !

He was struck dumb with dismay on hearing
this grand revelation of my father's project.
He frankly expressed his own wishes for his
future course, and then it was my father who was
dumb with astonishment.

A warm discussion ensued. Honoré warmly
controverted the powerful reasons which were
brought against his own plan, and his looks, words,
and manner of speaking revealed such a conviction
of his own vocation that my father at length
granted him two years in which to give proofs of
his talent.

This fine opportunity, which he thus allowed to
escape, explains the severity with which he was
treated by his family. Also it accounts for the
hatred he felt against the whole body of notaries —
a detestation which is very apparent in some of
his works.

24 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

My father did not yield without much reluc-
tance, which was augmented by several vexations
about money matters. He had just been obliged
to retire from his post on a pension ; also he had
lost money in two speculations. In short, we were
all to go to reside, on a reduced income, at a
country house he had purchased about six leagues
from Paris.

Fathers and mothers will easily understand the
anxieties felt by my parents under the circum-
stances. My brother had given, as yet, no proof of
his literary talent ; and, as his fortune was all to
make, it seemed only rational to wish him to follow
a less precarious occupation than that of a writer for
the press. For one individual who, like Honoré,
so magnificently vindicated his own faith in his
self-chosen career, how many mediocrities have
been thrown upon evil days by a similar yielding
on the part of their parents ! My father's conde-
scension to his son's wishes did not fail to be
treated as weakness, and he was much blamed by
all who knew us. ' My brother was going to lose
precious time. What could the profession of litera-
ture ever do for him ? At the best it would never
lead to fortune ; and then, had Honoré the making
of a man of genius in him ?' Everybody doubted it
greatly. It may be imagined what they would

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 25

have said had my father confided to them the
opportunity that had been offered to him on his
behalf.

One of our friends, who was rather brusque
and very positive, declared that Honoré was fit
only for the situation of a copying clerk. The un-
fortunate youth ' wrote a beautiful hand ' — quoting
the words of his writing-master when he left
college — and he advised my father to place him in
some public office where, with his interest, Honoré
might soon be in a position to support himself.

My father judged otherwise of his son ; and,
having faith in his own theories and believing in
the intelligence of his children, he only smiled at
the vehemence of his friend, and remained firm.

My mother felt less confidence than my father ;
but she thought that a little poverty and difficulty
would soon bring Honoré to submission.

Accordingly, before we left Paris, she installed
him in a garret, which he had chosen himself, near
the library of the Arsenal, the only one he did
not know, and in which he intended to work.
She furnished it with only the strictest necessaries
— a bed, a table, and a few chairs. The nominal
allowance which she proposed to give him was so
small that it certainly would not, with the most
rigorous economy, have sufficed for his wants if

26 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

my mother had not charged an old woman, who
for twenty years had been in the service of our
family, to watch over him secretly. It is this
old woman whom in his letters he calls * l'Iris
messagère/

The transition from a home where everything
was abundant, to the solitude of a garret destitute
of every comfort, was certainly hard. He did not,
however, complain of the small nook where he
found his liberty, and to which he carried the
fervid hopes which his first literary disappoint-
ments could not extinguish.

It was at this period that the following corre-
spondence began. The familiar jestings in the first
fragments which I quote may seem trivial ; but I
must not suppress them, because they illustrate in
a remarkable manner the inner nature of my
brother, and it is interesting to follow the gradual
development of a mind like his. In his first
letter, after enumerating the expenses of house-
keeping details — given only to let my mother see
that he was already wanting money — he confides
to me that he has engaged a servant.

1 A servant ! but are you in earnest, my
1 brother ?

4 Yes, a servant. He has a name as droll as
' that of the Doctors servant, who is called Quiet.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 2J

' Mine is called Myself {Moi-même). A bad
' bargain, truly. Moi-même is idle, clumsy,
1 thoughtless. His master is hungry, is thirsty,
' and sometimes he has provided neither bread
' nor water for him. He does not even know how
1 to keep out the wind which whistles through the
1 door and the window like Tulou through his
' flute, but not so pleasantly.'

In his second letter he apologises for his
former one, which our mother had thought care
lessly written.

1 Tell maman I work so hard that writing to
' you is my relaxation. Besides — without offence
' be it said — I go along like Sancho Panza's ass,
1 browsing on all that comes in my road. I never
' make a rough copy (the heart knows nothing of
* rough copies). If I do not put in my stops, if I
' do not read over what I have written, it is that
' you may read my letter again, and so be obliged
' to think of me longer. I will fling my pen to
' dumb beasts if that is not a touch of finesse
' worthy of a woman ! '

What numberless works he was at that period
revolving in his brain! Romances, comedies,
comic operas, tragedies, are on his list of the works
that he was going to write. He was like a child
who is so eager to talk that he does not know where

28 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

to begin. ' Stella ' and ' Coqsigrue ' are two of the
first books he is going to write. Neither of them
ever saw the light. Amongst the comedies that
he contemplated writing at this time I recollect
one called * The Two Philosophers/ which he would
certainly have resumed in his leisure times. These
two philosophers mock at each other, and quarrel
together 'just like friends/ as my brother said
when speaking of this play.

Whilst both of these philosophers were pre-
tending to despise the honours and pleasures of
the world they struggle against each other to
obtain them ; they both fail : their respective
failure reconciles them, and they unite in abusing
the detestable race of human beings.

It is impossible to guess for which of his books
he wanted our fathers copy of Tacitus, the edi-
tion of which was not in the Arsenal library.
It is the subject of his third letter.

' It is absolutely necessary that I should have
1 my father's copy of Tacitus. He does not want
1 it now that he is China, or in the Bible/

My father was enthusiastic about the Chinese
(possibly because they are, as a people, so long-
lived). He was at that time reading the ponder-
ous works of the Jesuit missionaries, who were the
first to describe China ; he was also making notes

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 2Ç

on some valuable editions of the Bible which he
possessed. It was a book which always called
forth his admiration.

My father, with a view to spare his son from
mortification in case he should fail in his hopes,
gave it out that he was away from Paris. It was
also a method of keeping him clear of worldly
temptations.

M. Villiers, of whom my brother speaks in one
of his letters from Switzerland, was a very old
friend of our family. He was an ancient Abbé
Comte de Lyon, and had retired to Nogent, a litde
village situated near Tile Adam. My brother
went to stay with him several times : the witty
conversation of this good old man, his curious
anecdotes of the old Court, wherein he had been
a distinguished personage, and the encouragement
he gave my brother, whose confidant he was, had
caused so strong an affection on both sides, that
Honoré in after days used to call Tile Adam
i son paradis inspirateur'

After much hesitation ' Cromwell ' was the
subject he chose for his first appearance in lite-
rature. It was to be a classical tragedy.

1 I have chosen Cromwell because he is the
' finest subject in modern history. Since I began
' to meditate on the subject, I have flung myself

30 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

1 into it body and soul ; ideas throng upon me, but
' I am constantly stopped by my want of skill in
' versification. I shall have bitten all my nails to
4 the quick before I have completed this first
1 monument of my genius. If you only could
' understand all the difficulties of these works !
' The great Racine spent two whole years in
' polishing and finishing " Phèdre," that despair of
' poets. Two years ! two years ! Do you realise
' all those words mean ? — two years ! '

His hopes began to be often mixed with
fears.

' Ah, sister, what tortures I endure ! I shall
1 petition the Pope to give me the first martyr's
' niche which becomes vacant I have just dis-
' covered a defect in the construction of my
' regicide play, and it swarms throughout with
1 bad verses. I feel to-day that I am a real pater
( doloroso!

He sent me the plan of his tragedy in the
strictest confidence ; he intended to surprise the
rest of the family when it should be finished. At
the top of his letter was written, ' For yourself
1 alone.'

1 It is not a small gift nor a slight proof of
' friendship I am giving you, in thus permitting
' you to assist at the birth of genius (laugh if you

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 3 1

' feel inclined). As at present this is only a plan, I
€ have left a margin on the paper, upon which you
1 can write your own sublime observations.

' But, in spite of this great privilege, I expect
' that your ladyship will read with due respect this
'plan of Sophocles the younger.

' Only to think that one may read in an hour
1 what it has required whole years to write ! '

Many months passed in this work. He was
constantly writing to me in alternations of hope
and fear.

Graver thoughts began to mingle with his
juvenile gaiety.

1 I have exchanged the Jardin des Plantes for
1 Père la Chaise. The Jardin des Plantes is too
' melancholy. During my walks in Père la Chaise
' I find many good consoling and inspiring reflec-
1 tions, and I have made there studies of sorrow

* which will be useful in " Cromwell." True sorrow
' is so difficult to describe ; it requires so much
1 simplicity.

1 The only good epitaphs are those contained
' in a name — La Fontaine — Masséna — Molière —
' one single name — which says everything and

* makes one ponder over it/

He, too, ponders over those great men of
whom, during their lifetime, the world thought

32 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

nothing, and understood neither their ideas nor
their works, and his heart grew pitiful over them.

1 Mediocrity will always find consolation in the
1 biography of great men/

He especially enjoyed standing upon the height
whence there is a view over the whole of Paris.
It is on this spot that Rastignac seats himself
after he has paid the last duties to ' le père Goriot'
Balzac himself lies buried here. He often ques-
tioned, when thinking of the illustrious dead who
lay sleeping round him, whether a day would come
when his grave also would be visited. In the
days when he felt hopeful, he would exclaim, like
Rastignac —

1 This world is mine, because I understand
it!'

Then he would return home to his garret,
1 where it was as dark as an oven, and where,
without me, nobody would see anything/

Like his own Desplein in c La Messe de
l'Athée/ he complains that the oil for his lamp
costs more than his bread ; but he never tired of
his garret.

' The time I may spend here will always be a
1 source of pleasant recollections. To live after my
* own fashion — to work according to my inclination
1 and in my own way — to do nothing when so

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 33

* disposed — to dream of the future, which I
1 always make beautiful — to think of you, know-
' ing you to be happy — to have for my mis-
' tress the Julie of Rousseau ; La Fontaine and
' Molière for my friends ; Racine for a master ; and
1 Père la Chaise for my daily walk. Ah, if this
1 would only last for ever ! '

The opinion of the friend who thought him fit
for nothing but to be 'a copying clerk ' some-
times troubled his mind ; then he would exclaim
indignantly —

1 I will give that man the lie ! '

When he had at length proved this friend's
judgment wrong, the only revenge he took was
to dedicate to him one of his finest works.

Neither did he forget the satirical smiles with
which the women had greeted his tumble at the
ball, and he vowed to make them smile upon him
after another fashion.

These thoughts redoubled his ardour for
work. Small circumstances often lead to great
results ; they do not create a vocation, but they
spur the man on to follow it.

There was another letter sufficiently remark-
able for me to remember ; it was evidently written
for my mother, and it was no doubt given to
her, as it is missing from my collection. In it

vol. 1. . D

34 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

he begins dimly to discern the different horizons
of social life, and the obstacles which in every
career a man must encounter and overcome be-
fore he can make his way through the crowd
which is struggling in the same direction, and
blocking up the road. He does not dissimulate
the difficulties of the literary profession, but he
argues that difficulties exist everywhere ; therefore

why should not a man be left free to follow the
vocation for which he feels an irresistible attrac-
tion ? That was the moral of the letter.

I will transcribe one last fragment of this corre-
spondence dated from his garret ; it was written
in April 1820, and is curious as showing his lucid
insight into things around him.

I I am more engrossed than ever with my
1 career, for many reasons, but I will only mention
1 those which it is possible you may not have per-
' ceived. Our revolutions are far from being at
1 an end, and, from the way things are going on, I
1 foresee a great many more storms in the future.

1 Whether it be good or bad, the representa-
1 tive system requires immense talent ; and great
1 writers will be called for in all times of political
' crisis, for do they not unite to their literary faculty
1 the spirit of observation and a profound know-
1 ledge of human nature ? If I became a gaillard^

' MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 35

1 (which is by no means certain), I may some
1 day achieve the title of " great citizen " as well a£
' that of a great writer. It is an ambition one
' " may lawfully indulge." '

The scene was now about to change, and his
first disappointments were to take' the place of his
early anticipations.

Towards the end of April 1820, my brother
returned to his father's house with his tragedy
completed.

He was in high spirits. He felt so assured
of his triumph that he requested some of our
friends might be invited to hear him read ' Crom-
well/ more especially that friend whose judgment
of him had been so disparaging.

The friends arrived, and the solemn ordeal
began.

The enthusiasm of the reader cooled visibly
as he went on, and began to feel that he made no
impression on the frozen and downcast faces of
those who were listening.

' Cromwell * was not to be his ' revenge '

upon M. , who, abrupt as usual, gave his

opinion of the tragedy in no measured terms.
Honoré did not accept his judgment, but the
others who had heard the work read were agreed,

P 2

36 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

although they spoke more gently, in considering it
4 very imperfect.'

My father listened to all that was said, and
he proposed that ' Cromwell ' should be submitted
to a competent judge. M. Surville, the engineer
of the Canal de l'Ourcq, who was about to become
Honorés brother-in-law, proposed his old pro-
fessor of the Ecole Polytechnique. My brother
accepted this literary veteran as his sovereign
judge.

The good old man, after reading it with con-
scientious care, declared that the writer might fol-
low any profession he pleased, ' except that of lite-
rature'

Honoré received this judgment without flinch-
ing. He did not feel that he had been beaten.

1 Tragedies are not in my line, that is all/ and
he quietly returned to his labours.

Fifteen months of life in a garret had, how-
ever, made him so thin, that my mother insisted
upon keeping him at home, where she watched
over him with tender solicitude.

During the next five years, whilst thus at
home, he wrote more than forty volumes. He con-
sidered them all as more or less imperfect attempts,
and he published them under various pseudonymes,
out of respect for the name of De Balzac, already

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. $*f

celebrated, and to which he wished to add fresh
lustre. Mediocrity is not so modest.

I shall abstain from giving the titles of these
early works, in obedience to his expressed desire.

In spite of the material comfort he enjoyed in

his father s house, Honoré never ceased to regret
his dear garret, where he had enjoyed the quiet

and freedom he could not have in the bustling
family circle, which, masters and servants included,
amounted to ten persons, all in movement, round
him ; and even when he was at work he
could not get away from the noise made by the
wheels of the domestic machinery, which the vigi-
lant and indefatigable mistress kept constantly in
motion.

Eighteen months after he had been reinstated
in his father's house, I was residing for a short
time at Bayeux, and our correspondence recom-
menced.

My brother in the midst of his relatives speaks
much more about them than about himself, and
he speaks with the freedom that perfect confidence
inspires.

In some of his letters there are scenes of
domestic life and conversations which might have
been pages from ' La Comédie humaine/

In one of these letters he compares my father

38 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

to the pyramids of Egypt, motionless in the midst
of the whirlwinds of the desert sand.

In another he tells me of the approaching
marriage of my sister Laurentia. His portraits of
her, of her fiancé, his description of the en-
thusiasm of the whole family for this second son-
in-law, are all drawn with the hand of a master :
he has already found the pen of Balzac.

The letter concludes with these lines : —

' We are all proud originals in our holy
1 family. What a pity that I cannot put all of us
4 into a novel ! *

I shall only extract from these letters the
passages that relate to my brother. In the fol-
lowing occurs his first attack of discouragement ;
as he advances in life he feels the difficulties of the
way : —

1 You ask me to give you details of the fête,
' and to-day I can feel only the sorrows of my
' heart. I am the most unhappy of all the unhappy
1 wretches who live miserably under the sparkling
* celestial roof of the world which the Eternal has
' made so bright and built with His powerful hands.

1 An account of fêtes ! it is a sorrowful litany
' which I have to send you instead/

In his next letter my brother announces his
third and fourth novels.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 39

* I send you two new works, which are still

very bad and very inartistic. You will find

1 in one of them some rather droll passages

' and some types of character, but a detestable

• plot '

He certainly judged himself far too severely.
These works contained, it is true, only the promise
of his genius, but there was evidence of so much
improvement in these latter works, that he might
have signed his name to them without any detri-
ment to his future reputation.

Happily for him his moods changed quickly,
and he soon recovered from his fit of de-
spondency. The next letters I received were full
of exuberance and gaiety. His novels began to
bring him in better payment, whilst at the same
time they cost him less effort to write,

' If you only knew how little trouble it is to
' invent the plot of those stories, to give titles to
1 the chapters, and to fill the sheets of blank paper
1 which has to be written upon/

At this time he was full of schemes and hopes
for the future ; he beheld himself as already become
a rich and a married man. He began to desire to
make a fortune, but only as the means to an end.
He would describe the ideal wife he wished to
find, and his thoughts about conjugal happiness

40 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

were certainly not those of a man who was con-
sidering ' La Physiologie du Mariage/

To distract me from the depression of home-
sickness, caused by the distance which separated
me from my family, he would invent a thousand
stories for me, scolding me for my low spirits,
quoting from Rabelais, and finishing with the
praises of ' Roger Bontemps/

At another time he would tell me all the news
of the village in a wild spirit running over with
gaiety.

' Every neighbour complains of his neighbour/
and he makes dialogue and talk for all the
characters.

Already he had become a seeker after secrets,
an explorer of the human heart ; delicate touches
of criticism, subtle remarks, and wise reflections
come to the surface in the midst of his gaiety.
These witty chronicles excite laughter and betray
that he already possessed that touch of Rabelaism
which distinguished him from all other writers of
his time.

' I am about to write to you to-day upon
' matters of the gravest importance. It is nothing
1 less than to try to learn what people will think of
' us. You will perhaps fancy from this beginning
1 that I am anxious to know what Bayeux, Caen,

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 4 1

1 and the whole of Normandy think of my charm-
' ing books ? Well, yes, but the matter in hand is
1 of much more importance than that ! It is
1 nothing less than an idea which my mother has
1 taken into her head to come and pay you a visit,
1 and here are the problems you must solve in
1 your reply . . /

He went to pay a visit to Tile Adam, and
whilst there he attended the funeral of a medical
man, such a one as he describes in the ' Médecin
de Campagne/ This man, whom he had known
during his previous visits, the benefactor of the
country round, beloved and regretted by all,
furnished him with the idea of this work.

This man, now dead, was to become one day
the living M. Bénassis.

Wherever my brother went he studied towns,
villages, country places, and all who inhabited them,
gathering up the words which expressed a
character or summed up a situation.

He gave the trivial name of his ' Larder ' to
the book in which he made notes of all the things
that struck him.

But although for a short time Honoré had been
lulled by hope, he was soon awakened from his
dreams by stern realities. His novels not only
did not make him rich, but they did not even

42 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

supply him with necessaries. The family was fast
losing all faith in him, and began to talk of the

necessity of taking some decided step.

That my brother should have succeeded in
getting his books published at all, was in itself no
inconsiderable success ; it proved not only that his
abilities were beyond those of ordinary men, but
also that he possessed remarkable powers of
fascination.

The publisher is an intractable personage for
the poor beginner, who is usually bowed out of his
presence with the disheartening phrase, ' You are
quite unknown, and yet you ask me to publish
your books/ How to become celebrated without
having done anything is a problem difficult of
solution, unless a man can come upon the battle-
field of literature with the force of a ball fired from
a cannon, and as yet my brother did not feel that
his works had received this impelling force. He
knew no one who could give him any help except
an old college friend who had since become a
magistrate, and who had written his first novel at
the same time as my brother ; no one else gave
him any help or encouragement.

. Fearing he might be constrained to accept for
a permanence the fetters of dependence in which
he was held so long as he continued under his

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 43

father's roof, and of which he felt ashamed, he
resolved to undertake certain speculations, in the
hope, if they succeeded, of gaining his liberty. It
was in 1823, and my brother was then nearly five-
and-twenty.

Now began a series of disasters which
brought on the misfortunes of his after life. Few
people are aware that my brother expended as
much energy and intelligence in his struggles
against misfortune as were required to produce
1 La Comédie humaine/ the work which gained
for him that celebrity which was the most
ardent desire of his heart. Those who were in
the secret of his life asked with pitiful wonder and
reverence how any man could find the time, the
physical endurance, and, above all, the moral
strength of purpose sufficient to support such an
enormous amount of hard and heavy work.

If only his modest request had been granted
for an allowance of fifteen hundred francs until he
had attained his first success, his family would
have spared him many adversities, and themselves
likewise. Energetic and patient, as true genius
always is, he would have returned to his garret,
where this income would have been sufficient for
his wants. Extreme in his desires, he required

44 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

either a palace or a garret ; he loved luxury, but
he could do very well without it

I will abridge the dry details of the events that
followed as much as possible, but they are neces-
sary to explain the misfortunes in which he became
involved, and which are so little known that even
his friends attributed his difficulties to foolish
extravagances of which he was quite innocent.

When Honoré went to Paris at this period he
went to lodgings which my father still held there.
He became intimate with a neighbour, to whom he
confided the annoyance and chagrin caused by his
precarious position. This neighbour, a man of
business, advised him to enter into some good
speculation, which would set him free from his
state of dependence, and lent him the money to
undertake the same.

Balzac, thus transformed into a speculator,
began as a publisher. He was the first who was
struck with the idea of publishing compact editions
of standard works, an idea which has since proved
very profitable to booksellers. He published in
one volume complete editions of the works of
Molière and La Fontaine. He published both of
these authors at the same time, because he was
afraid that one would be snatched from him whilst
he was busy upon the other.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 45

These editions did not succeed, because he
was a quite obscure person, and the rest of the
trade refused either to buy or to receive his books
for sale.

The sum that had been lent to him was quite
insufficient to meet the expenses of the numerous
advertisements . which might have attracted pur-
chasers. These editions remained entirely un-
known, and a year after they came out my brother
had not disposed of twenty copies.

In order to put an end to the expense of ware-
house room for the books remaining on hand,
where they lay piled up and completely buried,
he sold them by weight for waste paper — that

beautiful paper which it had cost him so dear to
cover with print.

Instead of gaining any money by this first
venture Honoré realised nothing but a debt It
was the first instalment of that experience which
in later days gave him such an insight into men
and things.

His next speculation was to become a printer.
The same friend who had lent him money for
the publishing business was anxious that my
brother shouldtake to some business which offered
a chance of repairing the loss. He introduced
Honoré to one of his relations, who had made a

46 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

large fortune as a printer. My brother received the
best information on all points ; he grew enthusiastic
about printing. He wished to become a printer
himself ; there would be no necessity for him to
give up writing books. He thought of Richardson,
who became rich both as a printer and an author ;
he foresaw new ' Clarissas ' issuing from his press.

My brother's creditor was quite satisfied with
this project, and he undertook to obtain the con-
sent of our parents. He succeeded. My father
gave Honoré, as his portion of what fortune he
might expect, the capital of the fifteen hundred
francs which he had once asked for as an allow-
ance to enable him to devote himself to literature.

Honoré took as a partner a young man who
had attracted his notice when he was publishing
his first novels. This young man was now married
and the father of a family, and my brother felt
interested in him ; but unfortunately he could only
contribute the practical knowledge, which my
brother did not possess. Honoré imagined that
the skill and zeal of his associate would be equiva-
lent to his contribution to the capital.

A printing license cost dear in the days of
Charles X. ; and when the cost of the license was
paid, the type and paper bought, there was very
little money left in hand for working expenses.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 47

The young printers installed themselves with
sanguine hopes in the Rue des Marais, St. Germain.
They accepted all orders that came in ; payments
did not follow so readily, and the balance between
in-comings and out-goings was not equal ; they
soon began to be straightened for money.

About this time an opportunity offered itself
for acquiring a type foundry on excellent terms,
which competent judges declared would be an
excellent investment. Honoré did not hesitate to
become the purchaser. He hoped by uniting the
two concerns to find either a third partner or to
be able to raise a loan. He made immense efforts,
but he could obtain neither the one nor the other,
because his first creditor had the first claim upon
all there was to be had.

Bankruptcy was imminent. Honoré went
through anguish of mind that he never forgot, and
at length was obliged to have recourse once more
to his own family.

My father and mother recognised the gravity
of the crisis and came to his assistance. But after
some months of continued sacrifice of money, and
fearing lest they should be involved in ruin along
with their son, they stopped short and refused to
furnish any further funds at the very moment
when things seemed to be coming round. Honoré

48 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

could not convince his parents of the almost
certainty of success which he saw near at hand ;
he was obliged to make a forced sale of the whole
concern. His difficulties were so well known, and
the prices offered were so low that to accept them
involved the loss of everything except the honour
of his name. However, to avoid bankruptcy,
which would have killed his old father and thrown
a slight upon his own life, he gave the printing
office and the foundry to one of his friends for the
price that had been bid for them. He at least
secured the prosperity of his friend, for his pre-
visions were fully justified ; there was a fortune in
the foundry alone.

The proceeds of the sale were not sufficient to
discharge all the debts connected with the concern.
My mother advanced the money required.
Honoré retired from the printing business
burdened with many debts, and my mother figured
in the list as the principal creditor.

It was now near the close of the year 1827.
Our parents had sold their country place, and
were residing near us at Versailles, where M.
Surville was the engineer of the department of the
Seine-et-Oise. H onoré was then nearly twenty-nine
years of age. At that time he possessed nothing
but debts, and his pen, which was his sole chance

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 49

of paying them. No one at this period recognised
the value of this pen.

Those who knew him and had dealings with
him considered him a man who would never
do any good for himself — un incapable, a fatal
epithet which freezes up all the goodwill of
others, and often brings the last stroke of ruin
upon an unfortunate man. It was denying that
force of judgment and clear, quick insight into men
and things which he knew he possessed.

This want of faith exasperated my brother a
great deal more than the criticisms brought to
bear upon his talents as an author, and which
buzzed about him, especially from friends, even
after he had given brilliant proofs of his genius in
1 Louis Lambert " and ' Le Médecin de Campagne/

His friends tormented him more than his
enemies ; some of them would say —

1 Well, Balzac, when are you going to give us
some really good book ? '

In their eyes Balzac was merely an author of
books of a very slight calibre, a writer of second-
rate romances, not a man of solid attainments.
If he had only written some heavy work, so solid
in learning that very few could have understood
i t, people would have felt respect for him*

Then, again, whilst abusing him for writing
vou i t E

50 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

only works of light literature, they taxed him with
arrogance whenever he ventured to touch upon
vital questions, and warned him in paternal tones
against such presumptuous rashness.

' Why,' said they, ' should you meddle with high
' social or political questions ? Leave all those to
philosophers and political economists. You are a
man who, as we all agree, possesses plenty of
imagination ; be content with that, and do not
travel out of your speciality. A novel-writer is
not expected to be either a learned man or a law-
giver.'

Observations of this kind, repeated in various
forms by people who were far from being able to
understand the strength that lay in him, exas-
perated him greatly.

1 1 shall have to die,' he would say bitterly,
1 before I can convince people of what I am worth/

If I seem to attach too much importance to
these small judgments, which have been long since
put to silence, it is only because they made up the
minor miseries of him whose life I am relating.

My brother, wounded and worried by the
incessant repetition of unjust judgments, took the
course of never defending nor explaining his ideas,
his books, nor his own actions ; the result was,
that people got into the habit of blaming both

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 5 I

without in the least understanding either. He
walked straight onwards to the aim he had in view ;
he went on alone, without support, without
encouragement, along a road which his two
disasters had filled with thorns and pitfalls.

But these thoughts have carried me away, and
it is necessary to return to the year 1827, the
period when my brother quitted the printing office
and hired a lodging in the Rue Tournon.

It was here that Honoré wrote ' Les
Chouans,' the first work to which he signed his
name. Very much occupied and fatigued with
hard work, he seldom came out to Versailles. Our
parents were displeased, and complained of his
negligence. I wrote to tell him of this. My letter
must have come to hand at a moment when he
was worn out with fatigue ; for he, who was always
so sweet-tempered and patient, answered in a tone
of bitterness —

' Your letter has given me two detestable days
1 and two equally bad nights.

1 I thought over my justification point by point.
1 Like the memorial Mirabeau wrote to his father,
1 I began to grow eager over this work, but I
1 threw it up. I have not the time for it, my sister ;
1 and, besides, I do not feel that I have done any
1 thing wrong/

E 2

52 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

A few days afterwards I received a second
letter, which I transcribe, because it shows his
character. It seems that he needed two screens
to finish the furnishing of that lodging, for taking
which he had already been reproached with extra-
vagance.

He desired to have these screens much as he
had desired to have his father's copy of Tacitus
years before, when living in his garret.

1 Ah, Laura, if you only knew how wildly I
desire to have those screens (but motus) — those
two blue screens embroidered with black (but
again motus) !

1 In the midst of my worries the thought of these
screens constantly returned ; then I said to my-
self, " I will confide this my desire to Sister Laura.
When I once obtain these screens I can never do
anything wrong. For shall I not always have
before my eyes this memorial of a sister who is
so indulgent for her own fancies and so severe
upon mine ? " The designs on these screens
may be whatever you please. They would have
I know not what charm ; I should always find
them lovely ; they would be the gift of my alma
soror.'

Here he was interrupted by the arrival of some
bad news. He goes on in his letter to tell me of

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 53

these fresh worries with a vehement warmth of
words, but he ends with these two lines —

1 My screens ! always my screens ! I have
1 more need than ever of one little pleasure in the
' midst of so many vexations.'
V ' Les Chouans ' was published, and this work,
although at first very imperfect, and to which later
he added some masterly touches, revealed even
then such wonderful talent that it attracted public
attention and the notice of the press, which at
first showed itself very favourable towards him.

Encouraged by this his first success, he set to
work with renewed vigour.

He continued in his retirement, going nowhere,
hence the same complainings from our parents and
the same warnings from myself.

Possibly he was feeling content with his own
work when my letter came to hand ; at any rate he
replied to it this time in a lively tone.

' Your scoldings, madam, lie before me. I
1 see that it has again become necessary to send
' you some further information concerning the poor
1 delinquent

' Dear sister, Honoré is a blundering crea-
1 ture, bowed down under his debts, without having
1 committed a single folly. He is sometimes
• tempted to knock his head against the wall, though

54 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

1 some persons will not allow that he has any head
1 at all. He is at this moment a prisoner in his
' room with a duel upon his hands. It is abso-
' lutely necessary that he should fight with half a
1 ream of paper, and pierce it through with ink
' which must be readable, before he can make his
' purse plump and joyful.'

My brother passed the first years of his literary
life in the midst of anxieties which were even
worse than those he had suffered in the Rue des
Marais, St Germain ; he never could pass down
that street without a sigh and the recollection that
the misfortunes of his life had commenced there.

He confessed to me that during this period he
was frequently subject to attacks of dizziness and
to temptations such as he represents as endured
by the hero of that work so full of freshness and
genius which he has called 'La Peau de Cha-
grin/

Assuredly if it had not been for his own faith
in himself, and the consciousness that honour
demanded he should acquit himself of his liabilities,
he would never have lived to write ' La Comédie
humaine/

If he did not retire again to some retreat like
his garret in the Rue Lesdiguières, it was because
he knew that in Paris people try to make money

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 55

out of everything, even out of other men's
poverty.

' In a garret/ as he once said to me, ' I should
get nothing for my books.'

The luxury to which he was inclined, which
was so much blamed and so much exaggerated,
was in reality at that time a method by which he
hoped to obtain a better price for his works.

My brother was an enthusiastic admirer of Sir
Walter Scott, and at first he had the idea of
following his example, taking the most remark-
able phases of the history of France ; for illustra-
tion, € Catherine de Médicis ' followed ' Les
Chouans.' It is one of his best works, though
comparatively unknown.

The introduction shows what Balzac might
have been as a historian, had he so chosen.

He afterwards abandoned this project, and
confined himself to painting the manners of his
own time, of which in his later years he wished to
write the history. 1

He called his works ' Etudes de Mœurs,' and
divided them into several series — ' Scènes de la
Vie privée,' ' de la Vie de Campagne,' ' de la Vie de

1 Some inaccuracies in the chronological order of Balzac's
works have crept into Madame Surville's narrative,, but they will
be found rectified in the list of his works, which comes at the end
of the correspondence.

56 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

Province/ 'de la Vie Parisienne/ &c. It was not
until 1833, after the publication of 'Le Médecin
de Campagne/ that the thought struck him of
gathering the different personages of his works
together and forming them into a world amongst
themselves.

It was a fortunate day for him when this idea
came to him.

He set out from the Rue Cassini, where he then
lived, and rushed to the Faubourg Poissonnière,
where I resided.

' Congratulate me ! ' he exclaimed joyfully,
1 for this time I really am going to prove myself a
man of genius/

He then began to unfold his plan, which, how-
ever, seemed somewhat formidable even to his
vast brain, and it required some time before it was
comfortably arranged there.

1 What a fine work it will be, if I succeed/ said
he, walking up and down the room, his face radiant
with delight (he could not sit still). c How easily
I can now bear to be called a mere novelist whilst
I am hewing my stones ; and how I enjoy the
thought of the surprise of the near-sighted public
when they see the great edifice these stones will
build/ This ' hewer of stones ' then sat down to
speak of the work more at his ease.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 57

He judged all the personages who were to
play a part in it with perfect impartiality, in spite
of the affection he felt for them all.

4 So-and-so is a scoundrel, and will never do
any good. Such a one is a brave fellow ; he works
hard ; he will become rich, and his good disposition
will make him happy/

4 All those other men have committed plenty of
peccadilloes, but they have so much strength of
character, and so much power of insight into men
and things, that they cannot help rising into the
high places of the world/

' Peccadilloes ! You are very indulgent to call
them thus/

' What would you have, my dear ? I cannot
change their nature. These are the men who drop
their own lead down into the lower deep, but they
know how to guide others. It is not the wisest
men who are always the best pilots. It is no fault
of mine ; I do not invent human nature ; I observe
it in times past and in the present, and I endea-
vour to show it as it really is. Imposture in these
matters imposes upon nobody/

He would tell us news from the world of ' La
Comédie humaine ' just as people tell the news of
the world we live in.

■

4 Have you heard/ he would say, ' whom Félix

58 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

de Vandenesse is about to marry ? It is a Mdlle.
de Grandville. It will be a capital match for
him : the Grandvilles are rich, notwithstanding all
that Mdlle. de Bellefeuille has cost the family/

If sometimes we interceded for some young
man who was on the road to ruin, or for some
poor unhappy woman whose sad fate interested us,
he would say —

1 Do not deafen me with your sentimentalities ;
truth comes before everything : those people are
weak and incapable ; what happens to them must
happen ; so much the worse for them ! '

His petulance, however, did not hinder
him from feeling a little compassion for them
himself.

One of the friends of Dr. Minoret (Captain de
Jordy) excited our curiosity. My brother had
said nothing about his previous life, but had given
it to be understood that he had experienced
great misfortunes, and we asked what they were.

' I was not acquainted with M. de Jordy pre-
vious to his arrival at Nemours/ he replied.

I one day tried to imagine what might have
been the previous life of Captain de Jordy, and I
related it to my brother. Such a preoccupation
about his characters did not displease him.

' What you suggest is quite possible/ said he ;

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 59

' and since M. de Jordy interests you, I will some
day find out all about him/

It was a long time before he could meet with a
suitable husband for Mdlle. Camille de Grandlieu.
He rejected all whom we suggested.

'Those people are not in the same class of
society/ said he ; ' chance alone could bring about
such a marriage, and in books one must make
use of chance very sparingly. Fact alone can jus-
tify improbability ; romance-writers can only be
allowed to make use of the possible.'

He selected at last the young Count de Res-
taud for Mdlle. Camille de Grandlieu, and for this
purpose he wrote afresh the very admirable his-
tory of Gobseck, where the highest morality is
worked out in deeds and not in words.

As mothers love the best those children who
are unfortunate, my brother had a tenderness for
those of his works which had the least success ;
he felt jealous for them of the success of the
others. Thus the universal admiration called
forth by ' Eugénie Grandet ' had the effect of
making him in the end care very little for this
work. When we scolded him for this injustice
he would say —

" ' Just leave me alone ! Those who call me the
father of " Eugénie Grandet " want to disparage me.

ÔO MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

It is, I grant you, a masterpiece in its way, but a
very insignificant one. They take good care not
to quote my best things.'

When the complete edition of his works was
printed he called the whole ' La Comédie
humaine/ He decided on this title after much
hesitation ; he feared it might be considered pre-
sumptuous, and he had the presentiment he should
not live to carry out his design to the full. Un-
happily his presentiment was verified ; the work he
loved so much was never finished. It was then
that he associated his friends with himself by dedi-
cating to each of them one of the books of which the
work is composed. The list of these dedications
shows that he was beloved by a great number of
his most illustrious contemporaries.

Between the years 1827 and 1848 my brother
published no less than ninety-seven works, and this
enormous quantity of writing was done without
the help of any secretary or corrector of the press.

For a short time my brother was attracted by
the phenomena of spiritualism. My mother, who
was always religious, had made a collection of the
writings of the Mystics. Honoré seized upon
the works of St. Martin, Swedenborg, Mdlle.
Bourignon, Madame Guyon, Jacob Boehm,

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 6 1

making about a hundred volumes, and he de-
voured them all. He plunged into the study of
somnambulism and mesmerism, which are allied
with mysticism ; and my mother, who was an
ardent lover of the marvellous, encouraged and
assisted him, for she was acquainted with all the
celebrated somnambulists and magnetisers of the
period.

Honoré was present at several séances ; he be-
came deeply interested in these inexplicable facul-
ties and their phenomena, and he composed the
strange story of ' Séraphita ' under the influence of
these ideas.

But the strong necessities of his life obliged
him to work only upon subjects which interested
the public and would sell, and, happily for himself,
he was brought back from these metaphysical
mysteries into the real world before his fine mind
had been bewildered and lost its balance, as so
many other high intellects have been ruined from
the like cause.

But I must hasten on, and abridge details as
much as possible. The mere recollection of the
labours and events connected with the last twenty
years of Balzac's life terrifies me.

Besides the books he wrote, he had to carry

6 2 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

on a voluminous business correspondence, as well
as with friends.

During this period he made journeys into
Savoy, Sardinia, Corsica, Germany, Italy, St.
Petersburg, Southern Russia, which he visited
twice; besides the journeys he made into the
interior of France, to visit all the spots which he
had made the residence of the various characters
in his books, that he might be able to describe
accurately the towns and country places where he
had made them dwell.

Coming in to take leave of us, he would say —

• I am starting for Alençon, for Grenoble, where
Mdlle. Cormon and M. Bénasis live.'

Impossibility, either as a word or as a
reality, did not exist for him. He proved this by
the courage with which he lived through the early
years of his literary life, when he would often
deprive himself of common necessaries to obtain
superfluities which occupied so important a place
in the kind of society of which he wrote. The
remembrance of this period recalls so vividly to
my mind so much intense anxiety that I cannot
bear to look back upon it

Between the years 1827-36 my brother had
been obliged to raise money by giving bills, the
falling due of which was the cause of perpetual

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 63

anxiety to him, because he could only meet them
by the produce of his works, and it was always
uncertain when he would be able to finish any of
them. After having accepted and got these bills
discounted, which was the first difficulty, he often
had to get them renewed, which was more difficult
still ; and he had to do it all himself, without any
intermediaries, for they would have been sure to
fail. But my brother could fascinate everybody,
even money-lenders.

' What a waste of intellect ! ' he would sorrow-
fully exclaim on his return, broken with fatigue,
from one of these undertakings, which were also
an interruption of his work.

With all his efforts he could not keep down the
debts to the money-lenders, nor the accumulated
interest upon them, which, as he used to say when
he was in lively spirits, resembled a snow-ball,
which grows bigger the longer it rolls ; and this
floating debt grew so large as months and years
passed on, that there were times when my brother
was tempted to despair of ever being able to ex-
tinguish it.

From time to time, to appease the most
clamorous of his creditors, he would make super-
human efforts, and performed such prodigies of
work that both publishers and printers were

64 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

terrified. These excesses of labour shortened his
life, and developed that disease of the heart of
which he died.

This state of anxiety lasted till the new editions
of his works enabled him to cancel some of his
most pressing liabilities.

His joy was great* when he could write off
some of the cyphers of this terrible debt, which
was incessantly before his eyes, goading him on
to work.

' After so many labours/ he would say to me,
' shall I ever possess a penny of my very own ? I
will certainly have it framed, for it will contain in
itself the record of my whole life/

During the years 1832-35 he visited in
Angoulême, Aix, Sache, Marseilles, and Milan.
His letters from those places show the state of his
mind.

Angoulême was the town where the family of
Carraud resided, under whose roof my brother
often stayed. A warm friendship between my
brother and this honourable family had begun in
1826, when I was living at Versailles. M. Carraud
was at that time the director of the studies at the
military school of St Cyr. This faithful and
intelligent friendship was one of the great blessings
of my brother's life. Those of his works which

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 65

are dated from Angoulême and from Fapesle —
an estate which belonged to Madame Carraud in
Berry — bear testimony to the profound sympathy
which existed.

Sache is a beautiful estate about seven leagues
from Tours. It belonged to M. de Margonne, a
friend of our family. At this place Honoré was
always sure of finding a noble hospitality as well
as an unchanging affection. With these friends
he had the quiet and ease of mind which he could
never find in Paris. It was at Sache that he
wrote ' Louis Lambert/ ' Le Lys dans la Vallée/
'La Recherche de l'Absolu/ and several other
works which at this moment I do not remember.

After finishing ' Louis Lambert ' my brother
left Angoulême to visit Savoy. I possess two
letters written from Aix, one to my mother and
one to myself. To my mother he writes : —

'Aix : September 1, 1832.

' I was deeply touched by reading your letter,
' my dear mother, and I love you for it. When
1 shall I ever be able to make a return to you in
1 tenderness and happiness for all you have done
'forme?'

In his letter to me he says : —

'Aix : September 15.

1 A word of remembrance for you, my beloved
1 sister, in the midst of my travels. I have been

VOL, I, F

66 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

1 through the most lovely countries. I shall
1 see places still more beautiful. Only I want to tell
1 you that they do not make me forget you.

1 I am on the threshold of Italy, and I am
1 afraid lest I should yield to the temptation of
1 going forwards. The journey would not be very
' expensive. I should travel with the Fitz-James
1 family, who would let me enjoy all possible
1 advantages. They are more than good to me. I
' should perform the journey in their carriage ; and,
' calculating all expenses, it would not cost more
1 than a thousand francs to go from Geneva to
1 Rome.'

But on further calculation the journey threa-
tened to cost too much. He gave up the project
for the time and returned to Angoulême, where
he finished ' La Femme abandonnée/ wrote ' La
Grenadière ' and ' Le Message,' and began ' Le
Médecin de Campagne/ which he finished when
he got back to the Rue Cassini.

My brother, to oblige himself to take the
exercise which was essential for his health, was
accustomed to fetch his proofs, and correct them
sometimes at the printing office, sometimes at my
house. According to the state of the weather,
which had an immense influence over him, the
difficulty of his work, or the extreme fatigue of

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 6 J

late hours, he would sometimes arrive dragging
himself along with difficulty, gloomy, prostrate,
with a sallow face and dark lines under his eyes.
On seeing him look so ill and so miserable I would
try to find some way of cheering him. He, who
could so well divine all that passed in people's
thoughts, replied to mine before I had spoken a
word

I Do not try to comfort me ; it is all of no use :
I am a dead man/

This dead man would then begin in a mourn-
ful tone to tell me all his troubles and embarrass-
ments, but he soon began the grow animated and
his voice became strong and vibrating ; then he
would open his proofs and, resuming his doleful
tone, he would say —

I I shall sink under the weight of it all, my
sister.'

1 Bah ! ' I would reply, ' people do not sink
when they have such works on hand as those you
are correcting now.'

He would raise his head, his face would
brighten up and the dark lines would disappear
by degrees, and he would exclaim —

' You are right ; by Heaven, you are right.
These books that I have here will keep me alive.
Besides, is not Luck, that blind god, always there ?

¥ 2

68 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

He can help a Balzac as easily as a fool. And it
is not even difficult to invent a stroke of luck.
Let only one of my millionaire friends (and I
have some), or let a banker who has more money
than he knows what to do with, come to me and
say, " I know all your immense talent, and I know
all your money anxieties. You need so much to
become free. Accept all you want without scruple.
You will pay me back some day ; your pen can
earn millions." That is all that need happen, my
dear/

Accustomed to these illusions, which always
brought back his courage and his gaiety, I listened
without the least sign of surprise. Having once
begun upon this golden fable, he would go on
piling reasons upon reasons why he should expect
it to happen.

'These soft of people spend such sums on
mere fancies. A good action is a fancy, like
anything else, and it gives pleasure at once. It
would be something for a man to be able to say,
" I have saved a Balzac." Human nature has
from time to time its good impulses, and there are
people who, without being Englishmen, are capable
of committing such eccentricities as these.

'Imagine me,' he would say, striking his
breast, ' a millionaire or a banker.'

•«•

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 69

At this point he would walk up and down the
room, throwing his arms about joyfully, saying,
1 Ah, Balzac is free ! You will see, my dear friends
and my dear enemies, how he will get on.' And
then he would make a grand dream of all he
would do for himself and for France, and how he
would show his gratitude to his friend the banker,

and all the credit and praise that would accrue
to the man who had first divined the value of
Balzac, and lent him money which opened for him
the road to success. After sailing about for a while
on these golden clouds he would come back to
reality ; but the dream had done its work : it had
distracted his thoughts from himself. He would
correct his proofs, and afterwards read them to us
with enthusiasm ; then would leave us, laughing at
himself, saying, ' Adieu. I am going home to see
if my banker has arrived and is waiting for me ; '
and then with his own good laugh he would add,
1 Well, if he is not there I shall at least find work
there, and work is the true banker who furnishes
me with funds.' He was always ardently seeking
to get free from debt, and his various schemes
exhausted him quite as much as his literary
work.

One day he thought he had discovered a new
substance from which paper might be made. This

70 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

substance was both cheap and plentiful, and easy
to be obtained. He was sanguine and delighted ;
but disappointment followed. The experiments
which were made did not succeed.

A friend went to see him, expecting to find
him much cast down ; but, on the contrary, he was
radiant and joyful.

1 But about the paper ? '
' Never mind paper. Has it never struck any
of you that the Romans knew but little about
the working of mines, and that they left untold
riches in their scoriae ? Some learned men of the
Institute whom I have consulted are of my opinion,
and I am about to start for Sardinia/

I And how are you raising the money to go
there ? '

I I shall walk through the country with a
knapsack, dressed like a beggar — a terror to
brigands and to monks. I have calculated
everything ; six hundred francs will be quite suffi-
cient.'

The six hundred francs were raised, and he set
off. He wrote to us from Marseilles, March 20,

1833 :—

' Do not, my dear mother, feel in the least

1 anxious about me, and tell Laura not to be anxious

1 either ; and, without disparagement for the Lau-

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 7 1

1 réenne wisdom, I feel assured that I shall not
c need any money to bring me back. I have just
' passed five days and five nights on the imperial.
' My hands are swollen ; I can scarcely write.
1 To-morrow (Wednesday) I shall be at Toulon,
1 and on Thursday I shall set off for Ajaccio/

His own narration of his adventures during this
singular journey should have been heard to be

appreciated. Once he had the good fortune to fall
in with some genuine brigands.

1 They are rather good devils/ said he, ' in all
< that does not concern their special calling. They
1 gave me information about all I wanted to know.
1 These gentry know the exact worth of both things
1 and people in that country. They quite under-
1 stood that they could get nothing out of me and
c that I had nothing worth robbing, and I really
1 believe — H eaven forgive me if I am wrong — but
1 I think they were more inclined to lend me money
1 than to take it from me/

When my brother arrived at Bastia he was
penniless, but he caused quite a commotion
amongst the young men when he told his name.
They all had read his books, and were in a state
of enthusiasm at the sight of him, which was a
great pleasure to him.

' I have already made a reputation in Corsica/

72 MEMOIR OF BALZAC

he told us. ' What charming young men ! what a
1 lovely country ! '

M. Béhic, the Inspector of Finances, received

him into his house and made much of him. My

brother whilst his guest won sufficient money at

play to defray his expenses back to France ; it

happened just at the moment when he was about

to write to us for the necessary funds. He enjoyed

these strokes of good luck ; they gave him faith in

his star. But, besides walking through Sardinia

and being tossed about on the sea, he had found

subjects for his books — such excellent subjects —

the last were always sure to be better than the

first — unless one happened to agree with him,

when he would find a score of good reasons to

prove that the first were the best.

He related to us all these new subjects with
much energy — plots, details, and everything. He
had worked them all out in his mind.

* That will make something good/ he would
say.

' Do you go telling your plots and your ideas
to everybody you meet?' I asked with some
uneasiness, for I knew that in the good republic of
literature people are not always scrupulous about
their neighbours' right to their own ideas.

1 Why should I not tell them ? ' he replied. ' The

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 73

subject is nothing; the execution is everything.
Let them write like Balzac. I defy them. Are
thieves ever capable of hard work ? If they suc-
ceed, so much the better for the public. I shall
regret nothing they have taken ; I can find some-
thing else, I suppose. This world is wide, and
the brain of a man is as capacious as the world/

The specimens that he had brought from the
mines were submitted to chemists for analysis.
This was an affair that required time. Honoré
was not, besides, at that moment in a position to go
to demand a concession from the Government of
Piedmont He had, in the first instance, to satisfy
the demands of his publishers and to earn the
money that such a journey would require.

He lived for a whole year in the castles in the
air which he built upon the fine fortune which was
to be made in Sardinia ; he lived in the future and
imagined for himself a terrestrial Eden, which he
arranged in all things according to his own fancy.
These dreams of his made the hearts of his friends
as sad as his real sorrows ; for did they not both
show in different ways the pressure of his anxieties ?
It was only in his dreams he could escape from
them. Once awake, he had again to take up his
burden.

The year following his journey to Sardinia my

74 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

brother, having achieved all the literary tasks due
to his publishers and the different reviews, set off
for Piedmont, to arrange for the concession of the
mines. Frank and expansive as he always was,
he had the year before explained the object of his
journey to the Genoese captain of the vessel
which carried him over to Sardinia. The delay
in my brothers journey to Piedmont had given
time to the Genoese to turn these confidences to
his own profit, and when he reached the end of
his journey he found that this was the case.

1 The delay has been fatal to my hopes. The
' Genoese has obtained a contract from the
1 Sardinian Government, made out in due form.
1 There is a million of silver to be got out of the
1 scoriae and in the lead mines. A firm at Marseilles,
1 to whom he applied, has assayed them. I ought not
( to have loosened my hold on the idea last year, and
4 to have been beforehand with them. However, I
1 have found another idea, which is even better than
1 the other. I will talk it over with yourself and
1 your husband when I get back. . . . This time
' there will be no Genoese in the matter. I am
1 already almost consoled/

It was always thus ; another hope always re-
placed the deceptions of the last.

Honoré had a project for writing a work to be

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 75

called ' Les Aventures d'une Idée heureuse,' which
had been suggested by the failure of his brother-
in-law in a great undertaking in which he had
embarked. Balzac proposed in this book to write
the history of an Idea which would have been
useful to all the world, but which is crushed and
frustrated by the many persons whose private
interests would be injured by it, and who com-
bine to ruin the man who has devoted himself to
the working of it out This subject, which would
have afforded in his hands so many observations
and social truths, was never written. It would
not have been the least remarkable of his works.

On his return from Geneva in 1836 he wrote
to me : —

' I have good news for you, my dear little
4 sister. The reviews are paying me better for
' my pages.

• Hé ! hé !

I Werdet tells me that the edition of "Le
' Médecin de Campagne " has been sold out in
1 eight days.

' Ha ! ha !

I I have funds enough to meet the heavy pay-
4 ments which fall due in November and December,
' about which you were so anxious.

'Ho! ho!

76 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

4 Also I have sold a new edition of the works of
1 that foolish fellow " Horace de Saint-Aubin,"
1 " Lord R'hoone," " Viellerglé," and other pseudo-
' nymes. I am to have a third of the profit, with
1 the power of denying the authorship of these
1 works, none of which I will ever acknowledge.
( But as these are being republished in that damned
1 Belgium, which is as bad for authors as it is for
1 publishers, I yield to the necessity which trans-
' lates itself into good crown-pieces, and in this
' way the effect of the injury is limited.

1 Souverain is to edit my " Contes drolatiques."

1 Ecco, sorella ! '

This money led a little later to the purchase of
a small piece of ground at Ville d' Avray, where he
built Les Jardies. But the whole thing was a
failure. The steep incline en which the house was
built caused the walls to sink ; the property cost
much more than it was worth ; and at last, under
pressure of difficulties, my brother was obliged to
sell it, and he always considered this purchase a
mistake.

In the ' Contes drolatiques ' Honoré proposed
to exhibit all the transformations which the French
language has undergone since the days of Rabelais
to the present time, giving to each story the ideas
proper to each period. He thought that if all his

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 77

other works should be forgotten these 'Contes
drolatiques ' would keep his name alive.

The studies which my brother made for this
purpose amongst the Old French prose-writers
made him regret the loss of certain words fallen
obsolete and which had never been replaced.

'What beautiful words!' he would exclaim.
' The like of them are only to be found in the
infancy of a language. How exactly they express
their meaning ! and with what an artless grace !
In these days a whole phrase is required to
supply their place.'

He was angry with those who blamed him for *
some expressions which he had created, and
which are to be found here and there in his
works.

'Who, then, ought to have the privilege of
enriching a language if it is not an author?
Our language has accepted many words from
those who have gone before me ; it may accept
mine also. These parvenu words will become
noble in time. The maker of all nobility is Time/

'Le Lys dans la Vallée/ the idea of which
had been suggested in Switzerland, was published
in ' La Revue de Paris/ During the appearance
of the early chapters my brother was informed
by some friends at St Petersburg that the com-

78 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

plete work had been published there. My brother,
thinking that this proceeding was unknown to
the editor, and that it was contrary to his interests,
hastened to give him the information. My brother
found it was the editor — who no doubt believed
he had the perfect right to act thus — who had
arranged for this republication. My brother ex-
claimed against this conduct ; the editor became
angry and would listen to no proposals for an
amicable arrangement.

Honoré then declared he should appeal to the
tribunals, that the rights of authors might be
judicially decided. He would not allow the
present occasion to pass, as it might be made a
precedent, to the detriment of other authors as
well as of himself.

To undertake this action was dangerous, for,
whether he gained or lost his cause, ' La Revue '
would become his mortal enemy and its columns
would be closed against him, and there was the
money part of the affair besides.

These considerations did not deter my brother.
The lawsuit began. His astonishment was great
when his adversary appeared in court armed with
a testimonial in his favour signed by nearly all
the authors whose rights he was preparing to
defend at his own risk and peril. Honoré was

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. JÇ

much pained by their defection, and for a long
time afterwards he divided his confrères into two
classes — those who had signed the testimonial and
those who had not. The logical stupidity of
those who had signed vexed him even after his
first annoyance had passed away.

His case was clear : he gained his cause and
made numerous enemies.

This lawsuit, and the work he published

m

shortly afterwards entitled ' Les Illusions perdues/
where he treats of feuilletonistes ', set the whole
press against him and roused animosities which
even his death did not altogether set at rest H e
cared very little for abuse, and often brought us the
articles to read which were the most severe upon
him ; but we felt differently and were much pained
by these attacks.

' Are you not very foolish/ he would say, ' to
feel annoyed ? Critics cannot make my works
either good or bad. Leave all to Time, the
sovereign justice. If these people are wrong the
public will see it some day, and the injustice will
then tell in favour of those who have been the
victims. Besides, these guerrilleros of art some-
times hit their mark, and by correcting the faults
they point out the work is made more perfect,

8o MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

and in the end I find that I ought to feel grateful
to them/
f . He did not wish either to protest or to
recriminate ; he wished to keep entire silence
towards his detractors. His friends accused him
of weakness and cowardice, and against his judg-
ment forced him to show his claws and to write ' La
Monographie de la Presse.' Wit sparkled in every
line, but he never ceased to regret a work that he
considered was a wrong done to his own dignity,
whatever credit it might be to his talent.

The consequences of this lawsuit were disas-
trous both to his purse and to his health. The
great journals closed their columns against him.
In the year 1834 he went to Sache, where he re-
mained for three months, out of the way of his
worries, kindly cared for and finding peace and
comfort with those steadfast friends. There he
finished ' Le Père Goriot,' corrected the proofs of
1 La Recherche de l'Absolu,' and began to write
a drama — the subject ' Marie Touchet ' — which,
however, he did not complete.

About this time he suffered a great sorrow in
the death of one who was very dear to him and
whom he had deeply loved ; his letters to me on
this subject were eloquent in the expression of
his deep grief.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 8 1

In 1835 he was at La Boutonnière, a small estate
near Nemours, where he had placed the personages
of his novel of ' Ursule Mirouët/ and from thence
he wrote to me : —

' I have finished " La Fleur de Pois." ' (This
was its first title ; he afterwards changed it to ' Le
Contrat de Mariage. 1 ) f I think I have succeeded
1 in what I wished to do. The single scene of the
s marriage contract indicates what will be the future
1 destiny of the married pair.

' Here is one great scène de la vie privée
( finished. In a future one — " L'Inventaire après
' Décès" — the horrible will mix with the ridiculous.
1 Brokers and appraisers ought to know something
1 of human wickedness ; I shall make them talk
1 amongst themselves.'

In speaking of the labours and vexations of
my brother I must not omit the ' Chronique de
Paris ' and ' La Revue Parisienne/ His own
place in literature was now conquered, and he
hoped by editing and establishing these works to
get out of debt as soon as possible, which was an
ever-present desire, and it urged him to undertake
this enterprise. A friend of my mother s lent him
the money necessary to defray the expenses of the
first few numbers of ' Le Chronique/ which
preceded ' La Revue Parisienne/ His good and

vol. 1. G

82 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

faithful friends came to his aid — Théophile Gautier,
Laurent, Jan, Léon Gozlan, the Marquis de Belloy,
the Comte de Gramont. He also engaged young
writers whose future success he could foresee.
Amongst others by Charles de Bernard, ' La
Femme de Quarante Ans* appeared in 'Le
Chronique ' — a chef-d'oeuvre which afterwards had
a great success.

In spite of these able supporters ' Le Chronique'
failed for want of subscribers.

Some years later this indefatigable and ever-
sanguine man wrote almost the whole of the three
numbers of ' La Revue Parisienne/ He was then
living at Ville d'Avray. In this Review he pub-
lished articles on Frederick Stendhal, Walter
Scott, and Cooper, which, I have been told, are
models of literary criticism.

Whilst he resided at Ville d* Avray he rented a
lodging in the house of Buisson, a tailor, at the
corner of the Boulevard and of the Rue Richelieu.
He always slept there when he spent an evening in
Paris. After he had sold Les Jardies he went to
live in the Rue Basse, No. 19, at Passy, where he
remained for several years, and which he only left
to install himself in his own house of Beaujon,
from which he never removed.

The attacks of the critics redoubled in their

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 83

animosity. They accused him of immorality, which
was the surest way to injure him and to alienate
the public from him. His works were prohibited
in Spain, in Italy, especially in Rome. It is easy
to define what is immoral in actions, but more
difficult when it comes to works of art.

These accusations gave deep pain to my
brother, and at times caused him great discourage-
ment.

4 People obstinately refuse to look upon my
work as a whole, in order to tear it to pieces in
detail,' he would say. ' My critics in their false
modesty drop their eyes before certain characters
in " La Comédie humaine," who are unfortunately
just as true to life as the others, and who spring
up like an undergrowth which has been cut down
in the manners of the present time. There are
vices in our own days, as in all others. Do they
expect that, in the name of innocence, I should
clothe in virgin white (votiasse au blanc) the two
or three thousand personages who figure in " La
Comédie humaine " ? I would like to see what
they would make of these people. I have not
invented Marneffe male and female, nor the
Hulots, nor the Philippe Bridaus, who brush against
everybody in the crowd of our old civilisation.
I write for men, not for young girls. Let anyone

G 2

84 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

point to a single page in which religion and family
life are attacked.'

This injustice went to my brothers heart. ' Of
how many torments and vexations success is made
up ! ' he would exclaim, resting his head between
his hands. ' But, after all, what is the use of
complaining ? '

My brother has said somewhere, ' La mort est
le sacre du génie/

The fragments of the letters which I have
given will show the warmth of his heart and the
burning soul within, which no disappointment nor

deception could render cold. To read through

*

his correspondence makes ones head turn round.
What labours does it not reveal ? What projects,
what hopes, are to be seen succeeding each other ;
what activity of mind, and what noble courage,
rising afresh after each defeat. What a richly
endowed organisation !

If the sorrows of the heart, which he had as
well as others, or fatigue, made him sometimes
feel discouragement, with what a firm will he
always quelled it, his powerful energy asserting
itself afresh, and, along with that, the power
which never failed him of doing work.

It must be remembered that the Balzac who
was to be seen in society was not the Balzac who

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 85

opened his heart so frankly to us in his conversa-
tions and in his letters. In the world he appeared
always amiable and brilliant. He was able to keep
all his anxieties so completely in abeyance that he
seemed as happy as the happiest He was quite
aware of his own genius, and found no difficulty
in taking the lead of everyone present.

He proudly concealed his poverty and his
difficulties, because he did not choose to be pitied ;
but if he had felt more free to act as he pleased,
more independent of his embarrassments, he would
have owned proudly that he was poor.

It was through struggles and misfortunes that
my brother gained his knowledge of the world
and of men.

Those who have known Balzac through the
whole of his life are well aware that this man,
so clear-sighted, so lucid in his judgment, was the
most simple and confiding of human beings, almost
childlike in his amusements, and of a temper and
disposition so sweet even in the days when he was
most depressed and discouraged that he made
life happy to those who lived most intimately and
closely with him.

This man, who wrote ' Le Curé de Village/ ' Les
Parents pauvres/ ' Les Paysans,' in his hours of
relaxation, was like a schoolboy in the holidays.

86 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

He sowed convolvulus all the length of his gar-
den wall in the Rue Basse at Passy, watched the
flowers open in the morning, admired their colours,
and delighted in the hues of certain insects ; would
walk across the Bois de Boulogne to Suresnes,
where we were then staying for a short time, to
take a hand at boston, showing himself more of a
child than any of his nieces. He would laugh
heartily at calembours, and envied those who had
the gift of making them. Sometimes he would try
to make one himself, but did not succeed. ' No/ he
would say regretfully, 'no ; that is not a calembour'
He was always ready to repeat the only two he.
had ever made in his life. ' I never intended them/
he would say with humility ; c I made them without
knowing.' We even suspected he had improved
upon them in after moments.

Inventing proverbes, a game then in vogue,
amused him greatly, and he was more successful
with them than with calembours. He composed
some for the utterance of his Mistigris in 'Un
Début dans la Vie' and for Madame Crémière
in ' Ursule Mirouët/ c La femme doit être la che-
nille ouvrière de la maison ' gave him as much
delight as if it had been one of his profoundest
thoughts. ' None of you could have made that/
said he.

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 87

When we had lotteries he invented mottoes
under which the lots were hidden, and was en-
chanted when he brought us some good ones.
' An author is of use sometimes/ he would say quite
gravely.

He had a singular theory about names. He
used to say that names which were invented never
imparted life to imaginary characters, whilst those
names which had belonged to real people en-
dowed the personages of a book with vitality.

All the names in * La Comédie humaine ' were
found as he was taking his walks up and down. He
would come home delighted whenever he had met
with one that was suitable. ' " Matifat," " Cardot,"
what delectable names ! ' he said to me. ' I found
" Matifat " in the Rue de la Perle in the Marais. I see
what my Matifat will be like already. He will have
a pale, cat-shaped face, not much inclined to be
stout ; for Matifat can have nothing great about
him, as you may imagine.'

' And Cardot, what of him ? '

1 He will be quite of another type — a little man as
dry as a bit of gravel, lively and enjoying himself.'

I can well understand his delight when he dis-
covered the name of M areas.

Knowing, as we did, the fidelity to life of certain
personages in ' La Comédie humaine ' — for if my

88 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

brother borrowed the names of living people he
also did the same by their characters — we were
sometimes terrified lest these resemblances should
be discovered, and so raise further hatred against
him.

' Simpletons that you are, all of you ! ' he would
say to us, laughing and shrugging his strong
shoulders, which had the weight of a world upon
them. ' Do you imagine that anyone knows
what he really is ? Are there such things as mirrors
that can reflect the moral likeness ? If some
Van Dyck like myself were to paint my portrait,
I should in all likelihood look at myself as if it
were some stranger/

He would go and audaciously read his types
of character to the very persons who had stood
for the originals. They never failed to justify
this idea, for whilst we would listen with trem-
bling anxiety, thinking it impossible that they
should not recognise themselves, they would say,
1 How true to the life are those characters ! You
must have known Mr. So-and-so or So-and-so.
It is to the life — as true as if they had been
sitting for their portrait.'

But, in addition to those who could not recog-
nise themselves, there were others who insisted
that other personages in f La Comédie humaine '

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 89

had been intended for them. Many were the
women who flattered themselves that they had
inspired the touching character of Henriette.

My brother never undeceived any of these
dear mistaken ones, but left them in the pleasant
delusion which made them his ardent defenders.
Let his silence on these things be forgiven him.
He had great need of devoted admirers.

No author ever thought out his plans more
carefully, or matured them longer in his mind, than
Balzac before he committed them to paper. At
the time of his death he carried in his mind more
than one book completely thought out, but which
he was reserving for the maturity of his genius
for execution, recoiling with awe from the vast
horizons which were opening before him.

' I have not yet arrived at the perfection which
is necessary before I dare undertake these great
subjects/ was what he was always saying.

The • Essai sur les Forces humaines/ ' La Patho-
logie de la Vie sociale/ ' L'Histoire des Corps
enseignants/ ' La Monographie de la Vertu/ such
were the titles of some of these books, the pages

of which will unfortunately remain for ever un-
written.

Those who have studied the works of Balzac

will not be likely to accuse him, as was formerly

CO MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

the case, of going haphazard towards an unfore-
seen dénouement He might in the course of work-
ing out a story change something in the details,
but never in the plan which he had previously
decided upon in his own mind.

He held firmly in the grasp of careful work-
manship the gift of enormous fertility and facility
with which nature had endowed him. ' One should

always be careful and mistrust these qualities,' he
used to say ; ' they often lead to a sterile abun-
dance. Boileau was right ; one must always curb
one's style, which alone can give permanence to

any work of art.'

On this account his great artist soul was

pained to behold the immense talents squandered
and wasted by some of his contemporary authors,
who he said abandoned themselves to these
dangerous gifts.

The love which he had for perfection, and
his profound reverence for his own genius, and
also his respect for the public, caused him often
to elaborate his style too much. Except a few
works which were written under a happy inspira-
tion, and which he scarcely retouched (such as ' La
Messe de l'Athée,' ' La Grenadière,' ' Le Message,'
1 La Femme abandonnée,' &c), it was only after
having successively corrected eleven or twelve

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 9 1

proofs of the same sheet that he gave the per-
mission to be printed off, so ardently longed
for by the poor printers, who were so wearied out
with these corrections that they could none of
them print more than one page at a time of
Balzac.

His habit of insisting upon so many successive
proofs of the same sheet diminished greatly the
sums he received for his works, for no publisher
could stand the expense. One of the accusations
against him was that it was to make more money,
and to save himself trouble, that he wrote his works
as they passed through the press ; but it was not
accusations like these which troubled my brother.
What annoyed him the most was to hear those
who pretended to praise his works without in
the least understanding them.

Much has been said, and not without truth, of
his excessive amour-propre ; but it was all so
frank, and so well justified moreover, that it was
far preferable to the false humility which often
covers a good deal of pride.

A high conviction of his own powers may be
well forgiven in a man who wrote such works as
1 Le Médecin de Campagne/ € La Recherche de
l'Absolu/ 'Le Curé de Village/ and so many
other first-class works, especially when the con-

92 MEMOIR OF BALZAC

viction of his own genius and his own faith in
himself could alone supply the patience and the
strength needed for such creations.

Of course it would have been better for him
if he could have repressed this naif enthusiasm
about himself, but it would have been requiring
the impossible from a man at once so frank and so
susceptible to every impression.

It may be seen from his letters how great mis-
givings followed close upon his great satisfaction
with his own work, and they were to the full as
genuine as his displays of amour-propre. But it
must not be thought that this self-love was so deaf
that it would not listen to the truth. If any
friends said to him, l It seems to us that such and
such a thing is bad/ he would first remonstrate,
justify himself, and, it might be, abuse them, and
insist that the passage they complained of was
precisely the best piece in the book ; but if, in
spite of his anger and self-assertion, they kept
firmly to their opinion, this firmness took effect.
None of the observations were lost upon him.
He reflected upon them during the solitary hours
when he worked at night, and would come back
and shake hands with the friends who had
ventured to tell him the truth.

He would say frankly, 'You are right,' or,

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 93

' You are wrong/ being equally grateful in either
case, for he loved his friends better thafi his own
self-esteem. He was always the first to laugh at
his own good opinion of himself, and he let others
laugh with him.

He knew the praise that was worth having,
and he never was the dupe of the common-
place expressions of admiration which were con-
stantly addressed to him. He was simple-
minded and confiding, but it was not in him to
be a fool.

He admired talent wherever he found it,
whether amongst friends or enemies, and took the
part of both whenever their intellect was attacked
or calumniated by vulgar stupidity.

How often has he assisted, unknown to them-
selves, young authors whose first works he has
chanced to read, by recommending them to the
editors of reviews and journals.

' That man has promise in him/ hé would
say. Such a judgment coming from him had
weight.

He could sum up the situation or the prospects
of a man in a picturesque or incisive phrase. It
was impossible for anyone to tell a story better, to
talk better, or to read aloud better than he did. It
was, therefore, impossible to judge of the weak

94 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

points of any of his books by listening to his own
reading of them. He could have made one admire
the poetry of a Trissotin.

The selfishness with which he has been re-
proached was the consequence of his unfortunate
situation and his enormous labours. Had he been
more free, he would have been helpful and
devoted. As it was we can appeal to the life-
long friendships which he preserved to the day of
his death, and to the young rising literary men
to whom he often gave his counsels — and his time,
his only fortune.

My brother possessed the art of making him-
self so greatly beloved that, once in his pre-
sence, people forgot the complaints, well- or ill-
founded, they might have against him, and they
could only recollect the affection they felt for
him.

All the servants who ever lived with him have
never forgotten him, though he could not do all he
would have wished for them ; all of them loved
him with devotion, and yet it was neither idleness
nor abundance that they had with him.

4 1 know not what there is about him/ said
they, 'but one would serve him for nothing.
When he wants you to do anything one feels
neither fatigue nor want of sleep ; and whether he

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 95

scolds you or rewards you, one is equally satisfied
with him.'

As to his friendships, he preserved them all
and betrayed none. Living on terms of intimacy
with the most remarkable men of his time, all of
them felt honoured by his affection and paid it
back by their own. Often he would quit his
work to visit a sick friend. He was so much
engrossed when with those he loved that he
would come in to see them intending to stay only
a moment and he would remain with them for
hours ; then, starting up with sudden remorse, he
would admonish himself by saying —

1 Monster ! wretched creature ! you ought to
have been writing copy for the printers all this
time instead of staying to chatter ! '

Then he would waste more time by calculating
how much these hours of relaxation had cost him —
a fabulous calculation, which, starting from reason-
able figures, mounted up to enormous sums»
because ' one must always take new editions into
account/ he would say.

To sum up all in one word, this great soul had
all the charms and graces that goodness can
bestow. His childlike gaiety and lighthearted-
ness afforded him that serenity which was essential
to enable him to work.

g6 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

George Sand, who knew him well, and whom
he always called ' son frère George/ has only been
mistaken on one point, and that is in the extreme
sagesse with which she credits him. It was
praise he did not deserve. After his work, which
took precedence of everything else, my brother
loved and enjoyed all the pleasures of life. I
think that he possibly might have been a great
coxcomb if he had not been the most reticent and
discreet of men. He, who was so open and com-
municative in all that concerned himself, never was
guilty of the slightest indiscretion as regarded his
relations with others ; he faithfully guarded their
secrets if he did not know how to keep his own.

My brother used to say gaily, when speaking
of the shortness of his stature (he was only five
feet high), that great men had almost always been
little ones. ' The head ought always to be near
the heart/ he would add, • to enable those two
powers which govern the human frame to work
well/

When at home he always wore an ample white
cashmere dressing-gown, lined with white silk,
cut like the frock of a monk and tied round his
waist by a girdle of white silk cord. His head
was covered with a black velvet skull-cap, which
he first adopted in his garret and retained ever

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 97

afterwards. It was my mother who always made
these caps for him.

According to the time of day when he went
abroad, his attire was either excessively slovenly
or extremely neat If anyone had met him in
the morning, worn out by twelve hours' work, on
his road to the printing office — an old battered hat
pulled over his eyes, his beautiful hands hidden in
large coarse gloves, his feet thrust into half-boots,
large loose full trousers in plaits over his feet —
he might have been confounded with the passers-
by ; but if he once lifted his hat and exposed
his forehead, if he looked at you, or if he spoke to
you, the dullest and commonest man could never
have forgotten him. His intellect, kept so con-
stantly on the stretch, had still further developed
the naturally large forehead which gathered so
much light Intellect showed itself in the first
words he uttered, and even in his gestures. A
painter would have studied that mobile face, over
which all thoughts and feelings were constantly
passing, and on which all sentiments were ex-
pressed — joy, sorrow, energy, depression, irony,
hopes, disappointments. All the moods of his
soul were reflected there.

He triumphed over the vulgarity of being
vol. i. H

98 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

stout by his manners and gestures, which were
marked by a native grace and distinction.

His hair, the arrangement of which he often
varied, was always picturesque, however it might
be worn.

The bust of my brother at the age of forty-
four, executed by David, will convey his likeness to
posterity. It faithfully conveys his fine forehead
and his magnificent hair, indicating that his bodily
force was equal to the strength of his intellect The
marvellous setting of his eyes ; the fine lines of
that square-cut nose, of that mouth so exquisitely
curved, where goodnature was allied with wit;
that chin which completed the pure oval of his
face before his tendency to corpulence had marred
its regularity — all are there. But unhappily marble
has not been able to express the fire and intellect
of those burning eyes — brown specked with gold,
like those of a lynx. Those eyes interrogated
and replied without the help of words ; they
seemed to see ideas and feelings ; they threw out
jets of fire that seemed to come from within, and
to give out light instead of receiving it.

Balzac's friends will recognise the truth of
these lines ; those who never saw him may tax
me with exaggeration.

My brother competed for the prix Montyon

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. 99

with his * Médecin de Campagne/ and did not
obtain it

He presented himself twice at the Académie,
and was not received.

I will say a few words about ( Vautrin/ the
first play of my brother's that was ever acted. It
was represented on March 14, 1840, at the Porte
Saint- Martin. The actor who had the part of
Vautrin took the notion — unknown both to the
manager and to my brother — of copying a very
exalted personage in the scene where Vautrin
appears as a Mexican general. Honoré felt at
once that the play would be forbidden.

I well knew the circumstances that rendered
success imperative for my brother, and being
anxious about the effect that this overthrow of his
hopes might have upon him, I hastened the next
morning to the Rue Richelieu, to the lodging my
brother occupied. I found him in a high fever,
and took him home to be nursed.

Two hours after his arrival at our house
Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, and others of
his confrères came to offer him their services.

M. also came, and said to my brother

that he would secure him a handsome indemnity
if he would consent to withdraw ' Vautrin ' from
representation, and so spare the authorities an

h 2

IOO MEMOIR OF BALZAC

initiative which would be very unpleasant to
them.

1 Sir/ replied my brother, * the interdiction of
4 Vautrin " will be very prejudicial to my interests,
but I will not accept money as payment for an
injustice ; I will not withdraw my play ; let them
interdict it/

1 Vautrin ' was withdrawn after three represen-
tations.

The time will perhaps come when the narra-
tive can be given of the closing years of my
brother's life ; the details will bfc supported by
letters, which will show the change that an expe-
rience he had so dearly purchased had brought to
his vast intellect.

The Balzac of that period had become cured
of his expansiveness, and was prudent, grave
almost to seriousness, though without any touch
of misanthropy.

I will speak of the latter days of his life,
broken down in the prime of his age, and of his
genius before he had accomplished his work, just
when he was hoping for happiness, and when he
was at least going to enjoy the tranquillity he had
so long desired ; they were things that moved the
hearts of both friends and enemies.

Immense successes and devoted attachments

• *

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. IOI

made up. the joys of his life ; he had also to endure
deep .sociews. Nothing, can be small or circum-
scmbêAi&'iatiieart 'that God has endued with the
exquisite sensibilities of an exalted' intellect

Who is there who will venture to pity him or
to envy him ?

I have revealed his character ; I have shown
what he was in his private life, his family affections,
his friendships ; I have told his misfortunes,
valiandy struggled with and courageously endured.
I think my task is fulfilled in making the world
esteem and love the man whom it admires as
an author. I have confined myself to doing this,
and so have discharged my obligations towards
him and towards the world.

To great writers alone belongs the right of
judging what he was as an author.

Laura Surville, née Balzac.
1858.

A few details upon the origin of some of Bal-
zac^ works will not be without interest

The subject of ' L'Auberge Rouge ' is perfectly
true, whatever may have been said to the contrary.
It was related to Balzac by an old army surgeon,

I02 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

a friend of the man who was unjustly condemned.
Balzac added nothing except the dénouement.

The romance of 'Quentin Durward,' the
historical portions of which have been so greatly
admired, roused Balzac's indignation. He as-
serted that Sir Walter Scott had strangely mis-
represented Louis XL, a king to whom he
declared justice had never been done. This
feeling induced him to compose ' Maître Cor-
nélius/ a work where Louis XL appears on the
scene.

' Les Deux Proscrits ' was written after a
deep and prolonged study of Dante, and intended
as an act of homage to the poet

' Un Episode sous la Terreur' was related to
Balzac by the sombre hero of this story.

Balzac greatly desired to see Samson, the
chief executioner of Paris — 'l'exécuteur des
hautes œuvres.' He wished to know what were
the thoughts of this man, whose whole soul must
have been filled with the recollections of such
terrible tragedies ; he desired to learn how his
terrible calling and his miserable mode of life
affected him. It was exactly the kind of study to
attract Balzac.

M. Appert, the Inspector-General of Prisons,
with whom Balzac was intimate, contrived an in-

i • •• ••

MEMOIR OF BALZAC. IO3

terview. Calling one day by appointment on M.
Appert, Balzac met a stranger — a man very pale,
with a serious and noble countenance. His
manners, his language, his evident cultivation and
intelligence, induced Balzac to take him for some
learned man who had come there from the same
interest and curiosity which had brought him.
The stranger was Samson.

Balzac, warned by M. Appert, repressed all
signs of surprise or repulsion, and turned the
conversation upon the subjects which interested
him. He inspired Samson with so much confi-
dence that, throwing off all reserve, he ended by
describing all the sufferings of his life. The
death of Louis XVI. had left him with the terrors
and the remorse of a criminal. (Samson was a
Royalist) The morning after the execution he
caused une messe expiatoire to be said for the King.
It was probably the only one celebrated in Paris
on that day.

The article entitled ' U.ne Passion dans le
Désert ' was founded on a conversation Balzac had
with Martin, the celebrated tamer of wild beasts,
after one of his performances.

'Séraphita,' that strange work which seems
like a translation from the German, was inspired
by a female friend

I04 MEMOIR OF BALZAC.

Note. — I find in one of his letters this judgment upon
George Sand : —

' She has none of the littleness of soul nor any of the base
jealousies which obscure the brightness of so much contem-
porary talent. Dumas resembles her in this respect George
Sand is a very noble friend, and I would consult her with full
confidence in my moments of doubt on the logical course to
pursue in such or such a situation ; but I think she lacks the
instinct of criticism : she allows herself to be too easily per-
suaded ; she does not hold with sufficient tenacity to her own
judgment ; she does not understand the art of refuting the
arguments of her adversary nor of justifying herself/

LETTERS.

To Mdlle. Laure de Balzac? at Villeparisis

{Seine-et-Marne) .

I

9 Rue Lesdiguières, 9 Paris : April 12, 18 19.

You insist, my dear sister, upon having all the
details of my removal hither, and of my mode of
living in this place. I obey.

I have already told mamma all about my
purchases ; but you will tremble when I tell you
that I have done something more than make a
purchase : / have hired a servant.

1 A servant ! my dear brother, how can you
think of such a thing ? '

Yes, I have hired a servant, and he has a
name quite as strange as the servant of Dr.
Nacquart, 8 whom he calls ' Tranquille ; ' mine is
called ' Moi-même ' — a bad bargain truly.

1 Les Proscrits and Un Début dans la Vie are dedicated to his
sister.

3 9 Rue Lesdiguières, near the Arsenal.

8 Le Lys dans la Vallée is dedicated to Dr. Nacquart

IOÔ MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Moi-même is idle, thoughtless, and clumsy.
His master is hungry or thirsty, and often he has
not even bread or water to offer him ; he has not
even a notion of how to keep out the wind which
whistles through the door and the window like
Tulou on his flute — but not so sweetly.

As soon as I awake I ring for Moi-même,
and he makes my bed and tries to sweep out the
room, but he is not very skilful in the business.

4 Moi-même ! '

' What did you say, sir ? '

' Look at that cobweb, where the big fly is
making a noise that deafens me — those flocks
underneath the bed — that dust on the windows,
which gets into my eyes and blinds me.'

1 But, sir, I see nothing.'

4 There ! Hold your tongue and do not
argue ! ' and he is silent.

He brushes my clothes ; he sweeps whilst he
sings, and sings whilst he sweeps ; he laughs
when he talks, and talks when he laughs. He is
not a bad fellow, after all. He has put my
linen in order in the cupboard beside the chim-
ney-piece, after carefully papering it with white
paper. With six-pennyworth of blue paper, and
some bordering which was given to him, he has
contrived to make me a screen. He has painted

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. IO7

the room white, from the bookcase to the chim-
ney-piece.

When he is tired of his work — which he is
not at present — I shall send him to Villeparisis l
to fetch some fruit, or, better still, to Alby, 2 to
enquire after my cousin.

I have said enough about the servant ; now
let us talk about the master, who is myself.

I have done my best, dear sister, to gild the
cage of the little grey bird ; but a few flowers
must be added, and I find those when I am
writing to you.

' Is not my brother a flatterer ? '

Do you not see that I am treating you to a
few spare compliments, the rest of which I have
paid to the young lady on the second floor ? But,
alas ! the current of my love has been much dis-
turbed since I made the discovery that she is in
love with a servant. Yes, Moi-même makes soft
speeches to her !

Now I am going to chatter. Having concluded
the official gazette, here follows the feuilleton.

The father and mother on the second floor

1 The village to which the Balzac family had retired.

2 When young Honoré first went to Paris to try his fortune in
literature, it was agreed by his parents that it should be said to the
friends of the family that he was on a visit to a cousin at Alby, so
that in case of failure it might be a secret.

I08 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

seem to be excellent people, but I cannot quite
make out what they are. The father is paralysed
down the whole of the left side.

I have also an excellent man for my landlord.
His wife is in business — somewhat vulgar, in
spite of her showy good looks. They have two
children — the eldest a son, a great lazy fellow,
and a daughter, married to a china dealer in
the Rue du Petit- Lion, where we bought, the
soup tureen for mamma's small dinner service.

As to the bachelor on the third floor, he is
an idler, a do-nothing.

Can you believe that I have been here an
entire week — thinking a little, setting things to
rights a little, eating a bit, walking a little, yet
doi ng nothing worth speaking about ? ' Coqsigrue ' x
is at the present moment beyond my powers. It
must be ruminated and well considered before it
is written. I am studying in order to form my
taste : I should be tempted to fancy sometimes
that I had lost my head, had I not the luck to
hold that respectable chef fast in my hands.

News ! something that must seem to you
quite extraordinary. I have not once opened my
sugar-basin.

What a baby I am ! But you see I am not

1 A projected novel, never written.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. IOC

writing a set letter; I am letting my thoughts
go free, and they run wild.

Don't be surprised that I am writing to you
on half a sheet of papier with a bad pen, and that
I am sending you à budget of nonsense. I must
retrieve my expenses, and make economies in
everything, even in my handwriting, and even in
my intellect, as you can see.

I am sorry I have not time to write to Lau-
rentia, 1 whom I love — shall I say it ? — as much
as yourself. Well, yes — as much as yourself.
Good-bye, dear, good sister. I embrace you with
all my heart, and Laurentia likewise.

To M. Théodore Dablin^ Merchant, Parts.

Pans : September 1819.

_ * **

Perfidious Daddy, — It is sixteen long days
since I saw you last. This is very fcad of you —

e

you, who are my only comfort. It is a very black
trait of character. But I bear no malice. I shall
expect you on Sunday morning. Mind that you

1 Balzac's second sister.

1 M. Dablin was a rich dealer in hardware living in the Rue Saint-
Martin, with artistic tastes and a generous heart, who often assisted
Balzac with his counsel and purse. The Chouans is dedicated to him.
When he retired from business M. Dablin formed a collection of
objects of art, which were much esteemed by amateurs, and when
he died he bequeathed the most valuable of his specimens to the
Museum of the Louvre.

110 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

are well up in the details of the exhibition of pic-
tures : I want to ask you about it

You are under the impression that I live a
long way off. This is a philosophical error. Read
Newton and you will find that I am within a
stone's throw.

And our Latin, traitor! I am waiting for
you to set me to work at it once more.

Adieu !

To M. Théodore Dablin y Paris.

Paris : September 1819.

Miserable little Father, — I did not see you
yesterday. Must I treat you like Cerberus in
Hades, to whom was thrown a little honey-cake ?
Must I write to you each time I want to see you ?

I feel that, the profit being all on my side, I
seem to be an interested person, although I am
imbued with the idea that in friendship one
ought to be under as little constraint as possible,
so as not to make one's friendship a yoke, and
thus create a wish to shake it off. It is sufficient
for me to know that I am beloved in the Rue
Saint-Martin ; I ask no more. The way to de-
light me would be to bring the list of the newly-
elected. I know about Grégoire, 1 but the rest ?

1 The Abbé Grégoire.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. Ill

Give me the list of each department, with a little
indication of the opinions which prevail in each.
I write no more, in order to have all the more to
say to you.

Adieu, Pylades Dablin.

You would be very good if you came on
Tuesday ; or if you cannot come before Sunday,
send me the list by Mother Comin, who will
bring it to me.

i To Mdlle. Laure de Balzac, Villeparisis.

Paris : 1819.

My very dear and honoured Sister, — Yesterday
(Sunday) I dined with my landlord ; I afterwards
played at little innocent games. I assure you they
were very innocent, considering the foolish stupi-
dity of nearly all the members of the honourable
company. The little loves are doing well.
1 Zaïre ' is beginning to write legibly, but I
shall never be able to make anything of her in
literature.

Saturday, 30. — As it is one o'clock in the
morning, Mother Antimèche is to come and take
my prose this morning, and I am re-Laurising
myself.

I have received your letter in which you
say, ' Write, write, write.' You will see by the

112 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

above that I was thinking about the Villeparisi-
ans.

Now tell me whereabouts you are reading in
Montesquieu, as you cite passages from him
which I do not know. Happy the brothers
whose sisters are Lauras ! You send me news,
as if I did not read the newspapers, and as if I
really was at Alby ; and you have actually wasted
half a sheet of your letter in writing to me what
mamma has already told me, what I have read,
what I know. Let us talk of something else.

I have finally decided upon Cromwell, and I
have chosen it because it is the finest subject in
modern history.

Since I began to consider deeply about this
matter I have flung myself into it both body and
soul. Ideas crowd upon me and overwhelm me,
but I am constandy hampered by my want of
facility in writing verse. I shall have eaten all
my finger-nails more than once before my first
monument will have been achieved. If you
only knew the difficulties of works like these !

The great Racine himself took two years to
polish ' Phèdre/ that despair of poets. Two
years ! — two years ! Do you realise all that lies
in those words — two years ?

But whilst I am consuming myself day and

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. II3

night, how delightful it is to associate those who
are dear to me with my labours ! Ah, my sister,
if Heaven has endowed me with any talent, my
greatest joy will be to see my glory reflected
upon all of you ! What happiness to conquer obli-
vion, and to render the name of Balzac once more
illustrious! At these thoughts my blood runs
high. When a fine idea strikes me I seem to
hear your voice saying to me, ' Courage ! go on ! '

I have entirely abandoned my comic opera ; PN^^amU,

should not have been able in my garret to find a
composer. I ought not either to write for the taste
of the moment, but follow the example of Racine
and Corneille, and work, as they have done, for
posterity ! . . .

The second act was feeble, and the first ac£}
would have been too brilliant for music ; / afld7wEen
reflecting for reflection's sake, I prefer to reflect
upon ' Cromwell/

But usually two thousand lines go to the
making of a tragedy ; so think of the reflections !
Pity me. What do I say ? No, do not pity me,
for I am happy ; envy me rather, and think of me
often.

I promise you that when my first act is nearly
finished, and only the last finishing touch is needed,
I will send it to you. But motus ! — no jesting on

vol. 1. I

114 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

such a topic. I have been very much perplexed ;
and the reason is this (you are competent to judge
of it), Strafford brings the Queen of England to
Westminster.

But she is obliged to take off her royal
clothes, in order to travel through the country, to
reach London, and to be allowed to enter the
palace. What ought to be her first impulse in
this condition ?

After much hesitation, I have given preference
to humiliated pride. Only a woman can tell me
if I am right Ah, my dear sister, what torments
are caused by the love of glory !

Hurrah for the épiciers! All day long they
are selling something, and at night they count up
their gains ; from time to time they amuse them-
selves at some dreadful melodrama, and thus they
are happy. Yes ; but they pass their time amongst
cheese and soap. Rather, by far, hurrah for men
of letters ! . . . Yes ; but they are all poor as rats
as regards money, and only rich in their contempt
for others. Bah ! let us leave them both alone,
and hurrah for everybody !

You must know that I refresh myself, after
my labours, by scratching in a little romance after
the antique. 1 I do it word by word, thought by

1 This romance never saw the light

» è ■

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. II5

thought, or, rather, ab hoc and ab hoc. I rarely
leave the house ; but when I take a ramble it shall
be a cheerful stroll in Père la Chaise. I am wait-
ing for the winter in order to work more closely.

The following is the present state of affairs,
for which you were asking : —

Fine Arts.

I have no music ! Naughty girl, you talk to
me about pictures. How do you think I can go
to the Musée while I am at Alby ?

I waited yesterday for that traitor Dablin, to
make him give me an account of the pictures now
on view. I had set his chair ready .... which
brought me ill-luck, for he did not come.

Out of Doors.

I have been met by M. de V and M.

F , from Villeparisis. If they have recog-
nised me, say it was not me.

Though I would rather not be like anybody
else!

Indoors.

I have eaten two melons. They must be paid
for by living on nuts and dry bread.

1 2

Il6 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Projects.

If some day you would only give me a rendez-
vous on the banks of the Canal de TOurcq, near
such or such a bridge ! It would only be three
hours' walking to find you, and three hours to
return to my garret ; then the ' Albigeois ' would
have seen all that he has dearest in the world !
Think about it.

Meanwhile if you are able to find ideas for the
situations in 'Cromwell,' write them to me.
Now what troubles me the most is the first
scene between the King and the Queen. Such a
melancholy, tender, and touching tone should pre-
dominate, such pure and fresh thoughts, that I am
in despair. It ought to be grand all through, like
the ' Atala ' of Girodet in painting. If you ha^ve
an Ossianic fibre, send me some colours, dear,
little, good, amiable, sweet sister, whom I love so
much.

You must know that I have been writing to
you whilst eating my dinner. After my letter
was finished, I found around me about thirty
mouthfuls begun. I am going to finish them.

Adieu. I embrace you, and I am your loup-
garou of a brother.

s

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. ÏI7

To M. Théodore Dublin.

Paris : September 18 19.

I have been meditating an oration on you in
the style of Cicero against Catiline. What ! one
whole month without coming to lesdiguièrùer,
while I wither to a mummy, bake to a cinder,
by not seeing you ! But do not believe, O
wicked man, that it is on your own account.
No ; patriotic devotion takes the upper hand.
I am an abridgement of Brutus. What of the
Deputies ? The lists of the newly elected ? My
dreams are of Dablin and Deputies.

In other respects I am not angry at the
sparseness of your visits ; it shows that you are fully
occupied. But you must know that for the last
week I have been as if at the bottom of Hades :
I have seen nothing, heard nothing ; no one has
written to me. I have not even had a glimpse of
Mother Comin. In short, I have been entirely
alone with my poor wits, that have gone a wool-
gathering.

1 Cromwell ' will blow the top of my head off.

I am so wearied out with English regicides
that I intend to rest, my brain for a fortnight, to
take nothing but my ease, in order that my head
may be refreshed by October, the date I have

Il8 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

fixed for taking a plunge into the gulf of the tra-
gedy, whence I shall not emerge until I brandish
the first act in my hand. ... I write on gilt-
-edged paper, as if you were my mistress. It is
to induce you to come and see me. I beseech
you, give Mother Comin a list of the new Deputies,
with their politics. Adieu, Pylades.

To Mdlle. Laure de Balzac, Villeparisis.
I

w Paris : October 1819.

My very dear and honoured Sister, — I seize the
godardienne 1 opportunity to send you tidings of
your scapegrace of a brother. ... A fortnight
has elapsed during which I have done nothing ;
I have let my field lie fallow. By way of com-
pensation I have now sat up three nights at
work again.

That abominable daddy has not come yet;
the chair was set for him in vain ; but I forgive
him. I am not a Christian for the sake of what
I may get {pour des primes). Are you still
working at your piano ? I must tell you that we
are making economies in order to have one here.
When my mother and you come to see me you
will find one installed, and ' Rousseau's Dream ' 2

1 Godard was the name of a farmer who, when he brought his
grain to Paris, did commissions for the Balzac family.

8 A composition by Cramer, very much in vogue at that time.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC IIÇ

shall be heard in my garret, where dreams are
much needed.

Laura, my dear sister, how is it that you
have not yet got hold of papas Tacitus ? Re-
member that I am relying upon you, who are as
cunning as a gipsy, to get hold of it for the benefit
of your brother. Of course* if it were ever used I
would not ask for it ; but it is like a diamond in
a sfrrine — only to be gazed at Absolutely I
must have it My father cannot want it now that
he is deep in China or in the Bible. Nothing can
be more simple than to find the key of the book-
case. Papa is not always at home ; he walks
out every day. ' The message-bearing Iris ' has
come to fetch my letter, but my conscience will
not allow me to send you such a scrap. I shall
put you into a drawer till another day, and mind
you are not stifled !

Saturday, 30th, since it is one o'clock in the morning.

I do not like your historical studies and your
diagrams century by century. Why amuse
yourself (the word is ill chosen) by doing over
again what Blair has done already ? Take him
down from the book-case — he cannot be far
from Tacitus— and learn him by heart Though
what good would that be ? A young girl knows

I20 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

enough when she knows the names of all the great
men ancient and modern, when she does not con-
found Hannibal with Caesar, nor take Thrasymene
for a general, nor Pharsalia for a Roman lady.
Read Plutarch, and two or three books of that
calibre, and you will be grounded for the rest of
your life, without derogating from your charming
title of— Woman. Would you become a blue-
stocking ? Fie ! fie ! I am going to take on
me the dignity of an elder brother, and scold you.
Seriously, it is no jesting matter. Anyone, to read
your letter, would take me for a Richelieu, in love
with thirty-six women at once ! My heart is not
so capacious ; and excepting yourself, whom I
love to distraction, I love only one person at a
time. This Laura tries to make me out a Love-
lace ! If I were an Adonis there might be
something to say. I have a swelled face.

Saturday, 10 o'clock in the morning.

As you take an interest in me, I may tell
you I have slept well. How could it be other-
wise when I dreamed of you, of mamma, of all my
loves and hopes, and, in awakening, gave my
first thought to you ? The news of my ménage is
disastrous. That rascal Moi-même is every
day more negligent. Hard work does not con-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 121

duce to cleanliness. Moi-même never goes out
more than once in three or four days to make
purchases ; he goes to the nearest shops — which
are the worst in the neighbourhood; the others
are too far off — and the rascal is economical of
his trouble. The consequence is that your
brother (destined to fame) is already living like a
great man — that is to say, he is dying of hunger.

With the Tacitus don't forget to send me
a rug. If you could add to it an oldest of all
old shawls, it would come in very useful. ' You
laugh ? It is the very thing I want to complete
my nocturnal apparel. My legs, which suffer
most from the cold, were my first thought. I
wrap those in the Tourangese 'carrick,' which
Grogniart, 1 of needle-plying memory, botched
up (cousillonna). The aforesaid carrick not
coming higher than my waist, the upper man is
left but ill protected from the frost, which has
only the roof-tiling and a jacket of soft worsted
to penetrate in order to reach your brother's skin
— too tender, alas ! to bear with it As to my head,
I reckon on a Dantesque skull-cap to enable it
to brave the north wind. Thus equipped, I shall
find my palace a most agreeable abode.

1 A small tailor at Tours, who used to fit Balzac with his father's
clothes, and pleased him but ill at it

122 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

I wind up this letter as Cato wound up his
harangues. He exclaimed, ' Let Carthage be de-
stroyed ! ' My exclamation is, ' Let Tacitus be
seized ! '

And I am, dear historian, the very humble
servant of your four foot eight inches.

You don't know it, but my conscience feels a
positive pang of remorse at having left M. de
Villiers, 1 who loves us so much, out of our secret
I know of no one to whom he would be likely to
betray us ; and, moreover, I have full faith in his
discretion. I have reflected that, after so laborious
a winter as I am about to pass, a few days in the
country will be highly needful. No, mamma, it is
not to escape from ma bonne vache enragée. I
like my hard lines. But some one at your elbow
will tell you that exercise and plenty of fresh air
are very conducive to the health of man. Now,
since Honoré cannot show himself at his father's,
why should he not pay a visit to good M. de
Villiers, who loves him even to the extent of har-
bouring the rebel ? A thought, mother : suppose
you wrote to him to settle all about this journey ?
Come, the thing seems already done ; for, with all

1 The Abbé de Villiers, a friend of the Balzacs who lived in re-
tirement at Nogent, a little village near Tile Adam, Seine-et-
Oise.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 23

your air of severity, we know how good you are at
heart, and we are only half afraid of you.

You wished for a long letter : I hope this
one will reckon for something. I sometimes am
sulky (bousard) with myself, and pout my lips
in dudgeon. My good mamma is not here to
say so, but I am the dupe of my own fancies —
one moment gay, the next in the clouds. I am
too changeable, and must shake off my own bad
company.

I have had a game of boston downstairs, and
a boston a piccolo too, and I have won three
francs ! If I don't take care, the lures of society
will lay a hold on me. The said boston made me
think of ours at home, consequently of you also.
I lost all the time while I was so thinking.

My letters are macédoines. I talk of a score of
different subjects on the same page.

When will you come and see me, warm your-
self at my fire, drink my coffee, eat my scrambled
eggs, for which you will have to bring a dish ?

Adieu, soror ! I hope to have a letter sororis,
to answer sorori, to see sororem, then, o soror !
but I shall also see the departure, sorore ! An-
swer me at the same length I write to you.

My face-ache is much better to-day. Alas!
perhaps in a few years I shall only be able to

124 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

eat bread crumb, bouillie, and old people's food
I shall be obliged to scrape my radishes like
grandmamma. It is in vain you say, ' Have it
pulled out;' I prefer leaving it to Nature herself.
Have the wolves dentists ?

To M. Théodore Dablin.

A

Paris : November 1819.

My dear Daddy, — You never came ; the chair
was again set in its place in vain.

I want a very complete Latin Bible, with the
French translation on the opposite page, if possible.
I do not want the New Testament ; I have one.

By the way, if Girodet sends his c Endymion '
to the exhibition, oblige me by procuring a ticket
for the day when no one is supposed to be there.

P.S. — You would make me happier still if
you would make use of M. Pépin- Lehalleur, and
procure me a pit ticket for the Français some day
when ' Cinna ' is performed.

I have never yet seen a single piece performed
of my old general's, Corneille. This is wrong in a
young soldier.

To Mdlle. Laure de Balzac, Villeparisis.
^ 1820.

My dear Sister, — I commence by telling you
that I love you with all my heart, and that I em-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 25

brace you, lest I should forget it in the course
of my letter. I may vaunt myself with Petit-
Jean % and say —

Ce que je sais le mieux, c'est mon commencement. 1

Ah! Laura, sororl what torments are mine!
I shall address a petition to the Pope to reserve
me the first vacant niche appropriated to martyrs.
I have just discovered in my regicide a bad con-
struction, and it swarms with halting verses. I am
to-day a veritable pater dolorosw. I have hit upon
a loophole for escape which scarcely pleases me.
Oh ! if I am a Pradon, let me hang myself! When-
ever you see a bad line, write in the margin,
' Ware the gibbet ! ' I devour our four classical
writers of tragedy. Crébillon gives me confidence,
Voltaire terrifies me, Corneille delights me, Racine
makes me lay down my pen.

I must tell you that I am very angry with you.
What, mademoiselle ! call your brother a giddy
pate ? He is usually called a ninny-hammer ; this
is more graphic. However, I am yet to learn
why you called me giddy. I know not what
nonsense daddy 2 has been talking about you this
morning, and St. Cloud, and the month of Octo-
ber, and a jaunt ; all I hope is that you will not

1 What I know best is how I shall begin.
a M. Dablin.

1 26 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

put a stop to the little dinner breakfast in the
Rue Lesdiguières.

I see nothing of Iris Comin except on the
wing, when she is always out of breath, although
riding on her rainbow of a basket filled with
potatoes.

Thanks for your affectionate messages, and
your provisions. I recognised your hand in the jar
of preserves and the flowers. Do your liqueurs
succeed ?

I am like N asking in this way after food

(balagoinfre) ; but my tooth-ache prevents my
eating, so I feast on words. Do you think of me
as much as I think of you ? You are emmalust-
fying x yourselves; and I — well, I'm amused at
your emmalusification.

Make a collection of all the hélas ! of your
aunt Malus ; report to me the burthen of all her
sighings.

I look to you for a laugh ; you are my good
Momus, for I can imagine I am making one at
your state dinner ; your stories are the manna of
my wilderness.

You ask for news ; I must manufacture some.
Not a soul calls on me in my garret I can only,

1 A word invented by the Balzac family, meaning they were
seeing much of a family called Malus. M. Malus was Balzac's uncle.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 127

therefore, speak of myself, and can send you
nothing but nonsensical fables.

Example : —

A poor young fellow's head caught fire at
9 Rue Lesdiguières, and the firemen were
unable to extinguish it. It was kindled by a
beautiful lady who is unknown to him. Rumour
says that she lives at the Quatre-Nations, the
other end of the Pont des Arts ; her name is
Glory.

The misfortune is that the incendiarised youth
argues over his case, and soliloquises thus : —

Whether I have genius or not, I am in either
case laying myself out for a multitude of sorrows.

Without genius, I am done for ! All my life
will be a sense of unsatisfied yearnings, miserable
jealousies, grievous hardships !

If I have genius, I shall be persecuted, ca-
lumniated ; although I know very well that in that
case Miss Glory will wipe away many a tear.

I shall leave you now, and go to sleep. I
have spent the night in deadly agony and torture.
I am going to fill my mind with some pretty dream
or another, of which I shall give you an account
when I quit the arms of Madame Morpheus.
Farewell, Laura = Dussek = Grétry = Balzac,
charming sister ! I am laughing like any hunch-

I2S MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

back as I embrace you. It is the beauty of phi-
losophy that she can make you forget the sharpest
pangs of grief. I am asleep.

.... To-day I realise the truth that riches do
not constitute happiness, and the period of my resi-
dence here will be to me hereafter a source of
happy recollection. To be able to live after my
own fancy — to work according to my taste and after
my own fashion — to shut my eyes to the future,
which I paint in lovely colours — to think of you
and know that you are happy — to have for a mis-
tress the Julie of Rousseau — to have La Fontaine
and Molière for my friends, Racine for my master,
and Père la Chaise to take my walks in !

Oh, if this could only last for ever !

My only anxiety arises from my desire to dis-
tinguish myself, and all my sorrows come from the
lack of talent which I discover in myself. As for
you, you can by practice increase the skill of
your fingers ; but all the labour in the world will
not give one a grain of genius. I leave you now
to take a stroll in Père la Chaise, to make there
some studies in sorrow. Tell papa and mamma
how much I love them. You only can express
my feelings. I leave the rest till my next. Adieu,
Mdlle. Petrarch. Your grigou of a brother.

Much love to Laurentia. I will never write

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. I2Ç

to you again. I spend all my time in chattering
to you, which could be better employed in working
for our mutual glory — if I

S To Mdlle. Laure de Balzac, VillepaHsis.

Paris : September 1820.

I have, ma chère bonne, taken a decided course
with ' Cromwell.' Now that all is irrevocably
fixed I have resolved to work at it in a different
way. It is to be finished in five or six months,
but roughly at a single sitting, because I wish
to be able, the picture being once outlined, to
lay on the colour at leisure. Perhaps I may
send you, by the end of November or at the begin-
ning of October, the first act. I hope you will
be able to snip, slash, and hack at it at your ease
and pleasure.

I am beginning to sit up of nights comfortably

enough, but the cold nips me (me pipe) (one of

papa's words), and I shall make the acquisition of

an old office arm-chair, which will at any rate

protect my sides and back. Say nothing to my

dear mother about my nocturnal labours, and

don't speak to me about them yourself either. I

must and will, though I should burst over it, come

to an end with ' Cromwell,' and finish something

before mamma comes and calls me to account for

my time.

vol. 1. K

I30 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

I am more strongly inclined than ever towards
the career I have chosen, for a crowd of reasons, of
which I shall only enumerate those that you might
not, perhaps, perceive for yourself. We are far from
being at the end of our revolutions; from the
aspect of affairs at present I foresee many a storm
yet to come. Good or bad, the representative
system makes a call for the highest order of talent.
Distinguished writers will necessarily be sought
out in any political crisis. Do they not possess
science, a spirit of observation, and a profound
knowledge of the human heart ?

If I have the true metal in me (though that
remains to be ascertained), I may one day achieve
something besides literary fame ; and to add to
the title of an eminent writer that of an eminent
citizen, is an object of ambition which may be
allowed to tempt a man. Nothing, nothing but
love and glory can ever fill all the vast space
there is in my heart, and within which you your-
self are conveniently lodged.

Dear sister, my good, kind Laura, I should
like to see you all richly bestowed, that I might
no longer be plagued about my future destiny.
There is in this matter a trifle of egotism, perhaps,
but I shall be forgiven for the sake of the amount
of good it would produce.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. I £ I

Therefore in my desire for the success of my
design concerning ' Cromwell ' there is a grain of
self-interest; and I treat my poor tragedy like
coffee-grounds. I calculate what I shall distil
from it, to make myself independent I am like
Perrette with her pitcher of milk, and the compa-
rison will perhaps be only too well realised.

If such a thing as genius were to be bought at
Villeparisis, I would say, Buy me as much of it as
you can ; but, alas ! it is neither sold, bought, nor
given, and I want some terribly.

Dear sister, think of me ; it is all I ask of you.
Fair and tender-hearted maid, sighing after the
Petrarch of Languedoc, try to light upon him in
modern guise, with a rent-roll of four thousand a
year and the post of Director-General.

Farewell.

I*

To Mdlle. Laure de Balzac, Villeparisis.

Sent with the plot of the tragedy of ' Cromwell '

For yourself alone.

Paris : 1820.

Dear Laura, — No paltry gift, is it, nor any
trifling proof of my friendship, that I here present,
in admitting you to be a witness of the birth-
throes of genius ? Laugh at me, if you will.

k 2

132 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

As the play is as yet only a sketch, I have
left a margin whereon I allow you to inscribe
your sublime observations. Notwithstanding the
great licence I give, I beg you, mademoiselle, to
read with respect the plan of the young Sopho-
cles. To think that people may read in an hour
what it has sometimes cost years to write !

Act I.

Henrietta of England, overwhelmed with
fatigue and disguised in humble habiliments,
enters Westminster, supported by the son of
Strafford. She is returning from a long journey.
She has been to Holland, by order of Charles I.,
to take her children there, and to solicit the assis-
tance of the Court of France. Strafford, in tears,
informs her of the latest events. The King, a
prisoner in Westminster, accused by the Parlia-
ment, awaits his sentence. You will understand
how the Queen is stirred at this intelligence ;
she is bent on sharing the fate of her husband.

Enter Cromwell and his son-in-law, Ireton.
They have appointed this spot to meet the con-
spirators. The Queen, terrified, conceals herself
behind a royal tomb.

The conspirators arrive, and she overhears
them debate whether the King shall be put to

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC, 133

death or not A very violent scene, in which
Fairfax (an honest fellow) defends the life of the
illustrious prisoner and unmasks the ambition of
Cromwell. The latter dissipates the suspicion of
his followers. After which they decide on the
penalty of death.

The Queen rises from her place of concealment
and makes them a tremendous speech. Cromwell
and his friends let her have her say, delighted to
have secured the victim they wanted. He goes
out with his accomplices to secure the success
of their plans, and the Queen proceeds to visit the
prisoner.

Act II

Charles I., alone, passes in review the facts
and occurrences of his reign. What a soliloquy !

The Queen enters. Here again talent will be
in considerable demand ! Conjugal love in this
scene makes up the whole bill of fare. It should
blaze and glow through the entire piece. There
must prevail throughout this painful interview a
tone so melancholy and so tender that I already
despair ; it simply implies reaching the sublime.

Cromwell comes to fetch the King, to bring
him before the court. Another difficult scene,
where the characters of three interlocutors so

134 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

different from each other must be brought into
relief. A difficult historical study.

Strafford comes to inform the Queen that a
small army of Royalists have seized Cromwell's
sons, returning from the subjugation of Ireland.

By placing Cromwell in a cleft stick between
his sons and the Crown, the King may perhaps
be saved. The act ends with this gleam of
hope.

Act III.

Cromwell waits on the Queen. The latter ex-
plains what you already know, and forces on him
the alternative of declaring himself one way or the
other. Great struggle in the inward soul of the
Protector. The King enters and announces to
Cromwell that he has ordered his sons to be set
free unconditionally. Cromwell quits the stage,
leaving the spectator in suspense. Some other
scenes between the Queen, the King, and after-
wards Strafford, who urges upon the King that he
is bringing himself under the axe again. All pro-
ceed to Westminster.

Act IV.

Cromwell enters. Ambition takes the upper
hand. The Parliament assembles. The King

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 35

appears before it, and speaks for the first and last
time in a tone. . . . (Here is the place to be sub-
lime !) The Queen, roused to indignation, comes
forward and defends (Heaven knows how elo-
quendy) her devil of a husband. Cromwell,
seeing that Parliament is softened, orders the
King and Queen to withdraw, that they may
deliberate. At the moment the guards are leading
them away the Queen makes a last effort to pre-
vail with Cromwell ; she offers him honours, titles,
&c. Cromwell remains unmoved. The Queen
leaves the stage in despair.

Act V. (and the most difficult of all).

The sentence is not yet known ; but Charles
I., who entertains no false hopes, confers with the
Queen on the subject of his last wishes. (What
a scene!) Strafford has learnt the King's doom,
and comes to announce it to his master, that he
may be prepared before the sentence is read to
him. (What a scene \ ) Ireton enters to fetch the
King and to bring him before his judges. Charles
I. tells Strafford that he reserves for him the honour
of attending him to the scaffold. Farewell scene
between the King and the Queen. (What a
scene!) Fairfax enters hastily. He warns the
Queen of her danger. She must fly instantly. It is

136 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

intended to detain her as a prisoner, and to bring
her also to trial.

The Queen, absorbed in her grief, at first hears
not a word of this, then suddenly she bursts forth
in imprecations against England. She will live for
vengeance ; she will stir up enemies against her in
all directions. France shall go to war with her,
prevail over her, and eventually crush her.

This will be the feu de joie, and I promise
you it shall be touched with the hand of a
master.

Thereupon the pit, bathed in tears, will go
home to bed.

Shall I have sufficient talent ? I intend my
tragedy to be the breviary of nations and of
kings.

I must start with a chef-d'oeuvre or twist my
neck.

I entreat you in the name of our fraternal love
never to say, ' That is good/ Discover my faults
only ; as for the beauties, I know all about
them.

Should any thoughts strike you as you go
along, write them on the margin. Never mind the
pretty things ; I only want the sublime.

It is impossible you should not find this plot
superb. What a splendid exhibition ! How the

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 37

interest rises from scene to scene ! The incident
of Cromwell's sons is admirably ingenious. I
have also been very happy in devising the cha-
racter of Strafford's son. The magnanimity of
Charles I., restoring the sons of Cromwell to him,
is finer than that of Augustus pardoning Cinna.

There are indeed a few defects here and
there, but I shall remove them.

I was so worked upon by all that you wrote,
that I felt as much moved as if it had been
over some line in ' Cromwell/

If only the Château 1 does not forbid my
tragedy!

If I were to give way to my feelings I should
fill a ream of paper writing to you ; but there is
1 Cromwell ! Cromwell ! ' calling me.

What costs me most thought is the description.
That young jackanapes Strafford must draw the
portrait of the regicide, and Bossuet is a phantom
in my path.

No matter ; I have already done a verse or
two, which are not so badly turned.

Ah, sister ! sister ! what hopes ! and what dis-
appointment, perhaps !

1 The ' Château ' in those days meant the Tuileries.

I38 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

To Madame Surville, 1 Baveux.

Villeparisis : June 1821.

If you wish to know exactly what is the situa-
tion of affairs here, picture to yourself first papa
pacing up and down his room immediately after
having the paper read to him ; next mamma in her
bed, who will not yet allow that she is cured of an
imaginary inflammation of the lungs ; Laurentia
by her side ; and lastly your dear brother writing in
front of the fireplace on the little piece of furni-
ture that used formerly to support your writing-
desk. I have just come from the He Adam, and
I cannot be expected to be so well up in all that
has happened as to write at any length.

But what I can tell you is this : that I think
of you often. You know there are certain words
which I take up and drop again every new moon.
Well, for the last six weeks my word has been
1 And Bayeux ? ' But mordicus it shall remain for
ever, moons notwithstanding.

A piece of news that will make a sensation
down in the country is the laying down of sand in
Laurentia's arbour and in our fore-court.

The day before yesterday was the festival of

1 In May 1820 Laura de Balzac married M. Surville, an engineer
in the Ponts et Chaussées department La Vieille Fille is dedicated
to M. Surville.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 39

Villeparisis — a gloomy affair enough to us. So
was not the last festival. In those days there was
a young troubadour who hovered round Made-
moiselle Laure. At the present date complete
absence of troubadours. I hope you mean to
describe your apartments, that we may see you
there trotting, straightening, rummaging, as you
may, in your imagination, behold us circling, trot-
ting, roaming, about the house. Tell us, please,
what sort of a town is that which calls itself
Bayeux — whether it be like any other place ; if
there be men there and women ; what may be the
costume of the natives, their mode of speech,
manners, and customs.

Yesterday we saw M. Auguste Perrault, who
complains that Surville has not written a word to
him about his letters of introduction. He wishes to
know if your husband has made any use of them, if
he thinks they will bring forth any good results, if

— if &c. I say all this by order. We told him

that for the first few days after settling down in
the country there were things to be done which
precluded all possibility of writing, and that Sur-
ville was very busy.

Dear sister, I am told that you urge my
coming to see you. You know I am snapt up for
the summer, and I promised you should have me

I40 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

next March. I shall keep my word ; but for the
present Dr. Nacquart packs me off to Touraine.
I thank you none the less kindly for your invi-
tation ; be well assured that the most mighty
motives must come into play ere I am prevented
setting off to keep you company.

Farewell, dear sister. I embrace you with all
my heart. Friendly remembrances to Surville,
who goes halves with you in all I have said.

Laurentia puts in a claim for her share of
the paper. I must not be a step-brother {fré-
râtrê) and rob her of her lines. Farewell, then.

To Madame Surville, Baveux.
if

Villeparisis : June 1821.

Dear Sister, — .... What you tell me about
your low spirits surprises me. I thought you
were more of a philosopher ! What, my sister, do
you not know that fretting is of no earthly use ?
Even if your melancholy were increased a hundred-
fold, would these hundred and one doses of chagrin
remove one single mile-stone on the road that
separates Bayeux from Paris ? or would they
abridge by one fraction the seventy leagues, which
I curse from my heart because they separate you
from us ? I should blame you much if you were
to forget us, for we are all eminently worthy of re-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 141

membrance ; but I blame you equally when I see
you so depressed at our separation, because, in one
word, which is as good as a hundred, this wretch
Melancholy does nothing to bring us into each
other's presence.

Oh, what a great man and an honest citizen
was Roger Bontemps ! Conform to his precepts,
dear sister : be merry, take comfort ; send that
brilliant imagination of yours on its travels ; set it a
task ; devise plans ; fancy yourself possessed of
Astolfo's steed ; mount him and gallop off to Ville-
parisis ; calmness and content will be yours once
more, at least so long as the journey lasts. Do
not write to us in so doleful a strain ; it gives me
a longing to set off to Bayeux, to line your
cupboards with paper, scrutinise your internal
arrangements, your inlaid parquets, your lamps,
and perhaps even to see Madame Surville her-
self. . . .

You have to bear the sorrow of separation
from your family. Have we not to endure that
of no longer seeing you among us, laughing, skip-
ping, gambolling, wrangling, chattering? Have
I not to bear (you see self creeps always in), to be,
at the age of twenty-two, without independence,
with neither prospect nor position, subject to
endless vexations ? . . .

142 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Fortunately within the last fortnight I have
hit upon a plan for securing to myself one hundred
thousand crowns, to be extracted from the public
purse ; I am to receive the same by instalments in
exchange for a certain number of novels, for which
at Bayeux there will be an enormous demand.

Talking of Bayeux, can you explain why the
street you live in should be called Rue Teinture ?
Not a shadow of a reason has yet dawned upon
me.

There is a piece of news which the papers are
not likely to give except imperfectly.

The anniversary of the death of poor Lalle-
mand was to have been celebrated by a funeral
service. When the students came to St. Eustache
the doors were closed ; a strip of paper pasted up, as
when a theatrical performance is put off, announced
that, by command of the authorities, the service
would not take place. The young fellows added
in pencil that, 'in accordance with the present
excessive freedom of worship, the friends of the
deceased were invited to assemble at the Boulevard
Bonne- Nouvelle, and thence to proceed to Père
la Chaise.' By pure chance there came to the
rendezvous seven or eight thousand persons, all
in black coats. But the garrison of Paris and the
gendarmerie guarded the approaches to the ceme-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 43

tery. The students attempted to break through
in defiance of orders. An officer gave the word
to fire ; the gendarmes refused to obey ; and a young
man (a desperado, say the ultras) had himself lifted
from hand to hand over the heads of the crowd till
he reached the officer who had given the order to
fire ; then, baring his breast, he said, * If you want
another victim, strike here. I am ready, for I
know that my death will serve the cause of free-
dom.' ' Bravo ! ' shouted the crowd. ' Long live
the soldiers ! Long live the gendarmes ! ' There-
upon the crowd betook themselves to an adjoining
field, formed a circle, and a student, in the midst
of the most solemn silence, delivered an address,
at the close of which all present swore to return
the following year, 'wearing black for our lost
liberties.' After this they all departed, walking
two and two, raising their hats as they passed the
house of M. Camille Jordan, who had died the
evening before, and also as they passed the house
of young Lallemand. 1 This solemnity has caused
a great sensation in Paris.

Let me tell you in confidence that our poor
mother is becoming like grandmamma, and may be

1 Lallemand was a young law student who was shot on June 3,
1820, in the Place du Carrousel by a soldier of the Royal Guard in
the midst of a meeting of the people, occasioned by an unpopular
measure.

144 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

worse. It was only yesterday I again heard her
complaining like grandmamma ; fidgetting about the
evening chills like grandmamma ; taking grudges
against Laurentia or Honoré ; changing her mind
with the suddenness of lightning, &c. &c. — all like
grandmamma. Perhaps it is the very fear that my
mother should fall into this weakness which makes
me see things in this light. What most distresses
me is the morbid sensibility which prevails at
home. Though there are but four of us we are
like a small town ; we watch one another like
Montécuculli and Turenne. For instance, the
other day I came back weary and worried from
Paris, and never thought of thanking mamma, who
had had a black coat made for me. At my age
such gifts hardly make the same impression as of
old, although it would not have given me much
trouble to appear touched by her kindness, espe-
cially as I knew it had been a sacrifice ; but I
forgot what I ought to have remembered. Mamma
sulked, and you know what an air and what a
countenance she has on these occasions. I was
amazed, and pricked up my ears to find out
what I had done. Fortunately Laurentia came
and told me what was the matter, and two or
three graceful words brightened up the face of
mamma. This is a mere nothing, a drop of water,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 45

but it will give you a sample of our ways.
Ah, we are tremendous originals in this holy
family of ours. What a pity I cannot put our-
selves into novels.

I hope that, better than all the descriptions in
the world, this will carry you back amongst us all.
Alas ! how comes it we do not exercise a little in-
dulgence in our mode of life, instead of always
seeking where a wound can be inflicted ? No
one will consent to live in that state of open
frankness (bonne flanquette *) that papa, you, and I
used to live in. I think Surville also would have
been one of us. Nothing so offends me as to see
those immensely demonstrative people who stifle
one in their embraces, who scream at one's egotism
if one wards off their exaggerated nonsense, and
who cannot form the smallest conception of any
inward sentiment that refuses to show itself.

Here's an expenditure of brilliancy. I don't
know myself again. You and I are together ; let
us leave cleverness aside and stick to the affection
we have ever had for one another.

Ah ! ah ! it would seem that my fine scrawls
are rather a take-in for the Post Office ; they cheat
it of at least three sheets of paper ; but our Govern-

1 A malaprop of which Balzac was very fond. A la bonne flan-
quette is a countrified expression for open speaking.

VOL. I. L

I46 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

ment is not liberal enough to induce me to write
in large hand. I am not like you, who make your
letters so large that they look like the inscription
outside an inn, except that they are not printed.
You might have put three times as much matter
into your three pages. You are not aware that
Laurentia has taken a violent fancy to Augustus

de L . Say nothing that might lead them to

suspect I have betrayed the secret, but I have
had all the trouble in the world to get it into
her head that authors are the most villanous of
matches (in respect of fortune, be it understood).
Really Laurentia is quite romantic. How she
would hate me if she knew with what irreverence
I allude to her tender attachment. Oh, the curse
of money ! But don't be anxious : if I should
chance to turn out a man of talent, I mean to
heap up enough money for all of us.

You may write to me once more at Ville-
parisis before I start for Touraine ; I don't go
till the 28th or 30th of June. I will write to you
myself once or twice during my expedition.

What more have I to say ? That I think of
you, I will not say continually, but sufficiently
often, especially towards the end of dinner. It is a
habit I have ; and, as we dine at about the same
hour as you do, you may about dessert time say to

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 47

yourself, ' Honoré is thinking of us. He is a very
good fellow, is that boy. If his letter were sent
to the press it would make thirty pages of print/
Great Heaven ! why didn't I put it into my
novel ? It would have been so much ground got
over. But you know that when I write to you I
chatter like a magpie with one eye, and cast
off my accustomed taciturnity. May my letter
enliven you. Heaven grant you may be sad no
more !

And now farewell, sister. Get up out of our
easy chair and show your brother out, who is now
standing at your drawing-room door. * Look how
well the lamps burn.' ' Yes, don't they ? ' Ah, that
clock is tastefully designed.' ' Now mind you are
coming to dinner. Take care not to lose your
way about Bayeux.' ' Pshaw ! you can send round
the crier with his drum for me.' ' Five o'clock,
mind.' ' Yes.' * Well,' says Surville, who meets me
as I am going out, ' you are going to take a walk ? '
1 Yes.' ' Wait a moment ; I'll come with you/

Oh ! the pity it should only be a dream !

Farewell, then. I embrace you affectionately.

t. 2

I48 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Surville.

^ Paris : 1821.

It is difficult when I write to you not to touch
upon the subject of the troubadour, 1 and you
will have as many versions of the story as you
receive letters. We have seen the whole family,
not omitting even a niece, who is charming.

But let us proceed in due order.

The grandmamma is a little, dried-up old
woman, said to be mighty amiable. Imagine a
woman half-way between Madame de Castan and
our grandmamma, with something of both, and
you will have a tolerably exact idea of her. The
mother I have not beheld with my own eyes, but
it seems she is a woman of the highest breeding
and quick as gunpowder. She embraced Laurentia
with cordiality, unusual in the race of mothers-in-
law. I wish I may have such another. She tells
her what her son has said in her praise, and finds
it all more than deserved. I should imagine her
to be nervous, and I pity those who live with
nervous people. There is also a sister-in-law, who
has passed the age of love-making, and is conse-
quently up to the chin in piety ; but she is said not

1 Mademoiselle Laurence de Balzac was about to be married
to M. de Montzaigle, and Honoré jestingly gives this name to her
intended.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 49

to look her years and to be truly amiable. There
is a second sister, who is married to an auditor of
the Council of State, who will one day have
30,000 francs a year. This one is very pretty,
amiable, and not stiff. I have not seen her myself,
but I have seen the brother-in-law, a pretty little
man with a full-moon face. In short, if there is a
Paradise on earth it certainly is the family into
which Laurentia is about to enter, if it so please
Heaven.

Yesterday we saw Laurentia's future aunt, the
second daughter of her intended husband's grand-
mother, Madame Cassière, the wife of the Direc-
tor of the Commissariat — you may have heard
papa speak of her — and it is she who has the
pretty daughter whom I mentioned at the begin-
ning of my letter.

If you, in your town of Bayeux and your Rue
Teinture, wish to form an idea of what she is like,
you have only to put both your hands over your
lovely brown eyes and call up in your recollection

the image of that little lady from M. de M ,

one of his nieces who is so pretty, but whose name
I forget Imagine her face embellished by a
divine smile, a figure somewhat taller, fuller, and
more gracefully moulded, and you will have an
accurate notion of the future cousin.

15O MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Lastly comes the intended husband himself.
He is a little taller than Surville ; he has a
commonplace face, neither ugly nor handsome;
his upper jaw is bereft of teeth, which ages him
considerably. In other respects, as husbands go,
he is rather better than worse. He writes verses.
He is a wonderful shot He has never attended
more than two matches, and he carried off the
prize on each occasion. He is also one of the
most expert of billiard-players. He hunts; he
drives ; he — he — he — in short, you must perceive
that all these talents,, when possessed by one man
and carried to the highest degree of perfection,
must naturally inspire and excuse a certain
amount of self-sufficiency ; and this is the case
with him up to a certain point, which point is not
exactly the lowest in the barometer of vanity.
But, as in our celestial family we are all pretty
well provided with that quality, we scarcely notice
it in him. Indeed, we say that when a man does
everything so well he may be allowed to have a
good conceit of himself. He wishes Lauren tia
to be happy. The absence of a piano will be
compensated by diamond earrings. The corbeille
will be beautiful. In short, all goes upon wheels,
and those wheels are smooth and steady.

Mamma finds that her future son-in-law con-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 151

ducts himself admirably— very admirably. He
always embraces mamma, and has never yet kissed
Laurentia except on the day of the betrothal.

On the whole you know that Laurentia is as
beautiful as a picture — that she has the prettiest
of arms and hands, that her complexion is pale
and lovely. In conversation people give her
credit for plenty of sense, and find that it is all a
natural sense, which is not yet developed. She
has beautiful eyes, and though pale many men
admire that ; and I have no doubt she will be
very happily married. Grandmamma is in a great
state of delight ; papa is quite satisfied — so am
I — so are you. As to mamma, recall the last days
of your own detnoisellerie, and you will have some
idea of what Laurentia and I have to endure.
Nature surrounds all roses with thorns ; mamma
follows of nature.

1 H enry is not happy. That child is being fagged ;
he will never do anything : he must he sent to
another school. He is with a canting set ; his
education will be spoiled. They keep the children
in ; they crush them with punishments for mere
trifles, &c. &c.'

You are to understand it is mamma who is
speaking.

I have in my eye a little room I can move

152 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

into on the 15th of this month, for I decidedly
must shut myself up : my work will go on all the
better.

I am in hopes of being able to k sell a novel
every month for six hundred francs ; this will be
enough to rub along with till affluence comes,
which I shall be delighted to share with you all ;
for that it will come, I make no earthly doubt.

I pity mamma's malady very much. There is
no one in the world to tell her of it. It would
make her the most wretched of women were she
to suspect that while she fancies she is doing
everything for the happiness of those around her
she does the contrary.

Farewell. I embrace you with all my heart, and
earnestly beseech you to fight against your ner-
vous feelings. My kind remembrance to Surville.

You said you were reading ' Clarissa Harlowe ;'
try and read 4 Julie ' next. I strongly advise you
to read ' Kenilworth/ Walter Scott's last novel ;
it is the finest thing in the world.

My novel is finished ; I hold the last chapters
in my hands. I will send it to you on condition
that you do not lend it, but as a matter of course
vaunt it as a masterpiece. You will feel that
under existing circumstances I can neither go to
Bayeux nor visit Touraine ; and if I quit the

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 53

paternal mansion it is because I am obliged to
work at novels which require research and assidu-
ous labour.

To Madame Surville.

Villeparisis : 1821.

My dear Sister, — Laurentia ought to be able to
tell you more in two lines than I could in a long
discourse. She being one of the interested parties,
would naturally find better words. I am but
a simple spectator, and, up to the present moment,
the only observation that I can make is that the
action of this drama does not proceed quickly
enough. I want to see the winding up, and con-
sequently the altar.

At last my impatience has been pacified by
the signing of the contract A soirée was given
on this occasion, at which there were ices, relations,
friends, plenty of acquaintances even, cakes,
sweetmeats, and other good things, among which
must be counted Henry, 1 some rarities, such as

Cousin M . All these were contained in our

little drawing-room, talking, moving about, staring,
and admiring the corbeille. I have only seen a
future sister-in-law of Laurentia, who is as beau-
tiful as an angel of Paradise, straight as a reed, and

1 The youngest of Madame de Balzac's four children.

154 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

very engaging. She has bewitched me — really and
truly. You want to know the minutest details,
and you address yourself to me — to me, the most
sorrowful of men, the most melancholy, the most
unhappy of all the unhappy persons who vegetate
under this celestial vault, que V Eternel a brillantée
de ses mains puissantes. . . . ' What sorrows can I
have ? ' Well, it is a sorrowful litany that cannot
be touched on during these days of merrymaking.
I shall wait for the first fast-day that comes in the
calendar before I speak. In this frame of mind
how can you expect me to tell you of all the num-
berless little events that go on here ?

The troubadour comes every day to breakfast,
to dine, and to pay assiduous court. Nevertheless
I do not find in his ways, smiles, words, actions, or
gestures anything which marks affection as I under-
stand it. Now, on my soul and conscience, I
would not marry a girl who did not make me love
her with much love. From all this many deep
thoughts have arisen in my mind as to the way
in which such an engagement is entered upon.

I have no doubt, however, but that Laurentia
will be happy, for she marries an amiable man,
who is clever and who has a happy temper ; but,
as I believe that everyone ought to feel in the social
state, as it is in nature, the result of one combined

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 55

harmony, I shall desire to find this sympathetic
harmony if ever I marry.

Presents, gifts, useless objects, two, three, or
four months of courtship, do not make happiness ;
it is a solitary flower, very difficult to find ; and
yet one is so unhappy alone, so unhappy in society,
so unhappy when dead, so unhappy whilst alive,
that one must not be too particular about its
colour.

You see I am not always merry.

) * To Madame Surville.

Paris : 1822.

My dear Sister, — I must tell you that I am in
a state of delight, for ' L'Héritière de Birague ' has
been sold for eight hundred francs. And we are
certain of the sale of the first copy, for grand-
mamma intends to buy it But, on the other hand,
I am ill, because I have a cough which tears my
poor little body to pieces ; yet I am glad, because
my next novel is to be sold for a thousand francs.
I am sorry, because I am so battered. The
frigate ' La Honoré ' has been so much knocked
about in this first voyage that it is necessary to
return to Villeparisis to refit.

I do not ask you if you are very busy, as you
have a guest who appears to enjoy herself at

156 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Bayeux. In all ways I have behaved with negli-
gence towards grandmamma, to whom I have not
written once ; but I am going to address a half-
sheet of affectionate things to her.

I am making the grandest projects in the
world. When my novels are worth two thousand
francs I shall take a wise and faithful wife, if I
can, and set up a pretty little house, all new and
varnished like a German toy. In truth, an author
ought to be married ; thus Madame de Balzac the
younger will be very happy. Do, pray, come back
to Paris, because by the time I have reached that
point you must have the goodness to choose her for
me. She must be on your model ; otherwise I do
not want her. ... So pray be on the look-out to find
your own likeness some five or eight years hence.

Alas ! I forgot that I ought to have begun my
letter with an imprecation upon all sisters. . . . Oh !
naughty sister ! Oh ! sister who does not write !
Oh ! sister who neglects her brother !

Post time is come ; I am stupid, I am ill, and I
love you — four reasons for ending my letter.

I embrace you a thousand and a thousand
times.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 57

To Madame Surville.

(Fragment of a letter, without a beginning.)

t Villeparisis : 1822.

• ■••••

As to papa, he is a pyramid of Egypt, im-
movable amid the rocking of the world, growing
younger, &c. &c, whilst mamma, always on the
road to Paris, makes up by her activity for papas im-
mobility. Henry is either a jewel or a scatterbrain,
which you like ; I declare I have no idea which he
is. Our poor dear father has had a terrible accident.
He went to Paris a fortnight ago to receive the
visits of Madame de Montzaigle and of the grand-
mother. In spite of our remonstrances he insisted
upon returning immediately to Villeparisis. While
he was in the carriage he had his left eye lacerated
and injured by the lash of the coachman's whip.
What an omen — a coachman's whip to touch this
grand old age, the joy and pride of us all ! At
first we thought the harm done was more than
happily was the case My fathers apparent calm
troubled me ; I would rather have heard com-
plaints ; and I thought complaints would be a

relief. But he is so justly proud of his moral
courage that I dared not attempt to console him,

I58 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

and one feels the suffering of an old man as one
would that of a woman.

I could neither think nor work ; but still I
must write, write every day in order to win that
independence which is denied me. I must en-
deavour to become free by means of novels ; and
what novels ! Ah, Laura, what a downfall for my
ideas of glory !

With fifteen hundred francs of certain income I
could work for celebrity ; but time is needed for
such work, and in the meantime one must live, and
I have only this ignoble method of making myself
independent. The days melt away in my hand
like ice in the sun.

If I do not make money soon the spectre of
that old plan will reappear : nevertheless I shall

not be a notary, for M. S has just died ; but I

believe that M. G is quietly looking out for

a place for me. What a terrible man ! Con-
sider me as dead if they cap me with this extin-
guisher ; I shall become a mill-horse, who does his
thirty or forty turns in an hour, with his stated
times for stopping, eating, and drinking.

And this is called living, this mechanical
rotation, this perpetual return of the same things.

Still, if there were only some one to throw some
charm on my cold existence ! I do not possess

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 59

the flowers of life, though I am in the season
when they bloom. What good will fortune and
enjoyment be when my youth is passed ? Of
what good are the clothes of the actor when he
has played his part ? The old man is one who
has dined and watches the others eat ; and I am
young, my plate is empty and I am hungry. Laura,
Laura, my two sole and immense desires are to
be famous and to be beloved. Will they be ever
satisfied ? You ask me for the details of a fête,
and to-day I am full of sorrows. Good-bye. A
thousand kind things to Surville. Do beg
Surville to enquire in what part of Normandy is
Château-Gaillard, or the Château Gaillard. Next
tell me if there be a library at Bayeux or Caen ;
if your husband has the privilege of obtaining
books from it, and if there are many works on
the history of France, especially private memoirs
throwing light on the several epochs. The
novel I intend to write will be on the subject
either of the madness of Charles VI. and the
Armagnac or Burgundian factions, or else on that
of the conspiracy of Amboise, or the massacre
of St. Bartholomew, or the earlier period of French
history.

My journey is still dependent on pecuniary
considerations of serious import It is possible

IÔO MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

that on January 15, if the press should be
enslaved, we may start a paper. If the journals
preserve their freedom we shall not. In the next
place, if our ' Damné* and our ' Mendiant 'were not
finished they would have to be finished ; if they
are put into rehearsal I shall have to stop here. I
foresee a good many hitches. If I can make out
a couple of months clear I shall rush down and
write my novel. If I sell my ' Beau Juif n dear — two
thousand francs, for instance — I stick to novels.
I shall be free, because six novels a year will
bring 12,000 francs. But what chances may
interfere !

Shall I send you ' L'Héritière de Birague/ or
would you rather ask for it at Bayeux or Caen, if
the booksellers there will send for it, and perhaps
get us a sale for it in Normandy ?

Praise it to the Bayeux ladies, that the book-
sellers may not lose, and you may describe my
novels in simple terms as masterpieces.

I have fallen heir to your pretty room with
the Scotch paper, and the little truckle bed, and
that little draught from under papas door; but
I have not that pretty little face, like one of
Raphael's Madonnas, that used to peep out from
the pillow when Mademoiselle Laure was there,

1 A novel afterwards published under the title of L * Israélite.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. l6l

but in its stead may be seen a yellow, ugly face,

which belongs to your most honoured brother.

I have no time to read over what I have

written, nor even to write. If you find ' I love

you' written thrice, imagine that, as I have
written it oftener, it ought to come oftener.

I shall wind up with a domestic picture. 1

' Louise, give me a glass of water, will you ? '

1 Yes, madame/

' Oh ! my poor head ! I am very ill ; I am indeed/

' Bah, madame ! '

4 It is worse than it ever was before/

' Well, madame, you see '

' My head is splitting/

These last words, uttered in a dying voice, are
suddenly interrupted by a scream. ' Louise, the
shutters are banging in a way to shatter every
pane of glass ! '

I suppose at this moment Surville is holding
his hands quite ready that their grasp of mine
may be complete. I think of the dear engineer as
always as plump as ever, in excellent health, in
excellent spirits, singing over his work, eating in
haste, drinking, dancing first on one foot, then
on the other, indulging in only one idea at a time,
and that in the eyes of his wife he is un amour,

1 To give an idea of his mother's nervousness.
VOL. I. M

1 62 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

except that he has no wings and that he is armed
with a pair of compasses. I embrace him with all
my heart, and wish him a continuance of the
thousandfold prosperity which is sure to come to
him sooner or later. Honoré,

Public writer and French poet
at two francs a page.

To Madame Surville.

Villeparisis : 1822.

I write to-day on matters of the deepest im-
portance. The question is to find out what
people will think of us.

You fancy, perhaps, from this exordium that I
am making myself anxious as to what Bayeux,
Caen, and all Normandy think of my lovely works ?

Well, yes ! but this matter is far weightier.

The subject in debate, ma chère, is my mother s
journey to visit you, and here are the problems
you have to solve in your reply : —

What is Bayeux ? Must we go there with
black footmen, horses, carriages, diamonds, laces,
cashmeres, an escort of cavalry or infantry — that is
to say, are high dresses or low dresses the fashion ?
Ought the costume to be serta or buffa ?

In what key must one sing ? Upon which
foot must one dance ? What's the right tone in

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 1 63

which to converse ? Who are the right people to
visit with ? Tontaine ton ton !

It is not for me to venture into the depths of
such important subjects ; discuss them ; resolve
them : a weighty responsibility will be weighing
on your shoulders within a very short time; I
cannot disguise the fact from you ; I am willing
to be your humble servant in all matters save in
this alone.

Mamma has so many preparations to make for
this journey that she has no time to write, and I
am charged with the agreeable task. Thus I am
to inform you that Laurentia has lost no time in
writing to us that her hopes of maternity are as-
sured. Papa continues well, and cured himself
a fortnight ago of an aneurism in the leg. Grand-
mamma begs me to say all the pretty things she
would write if that unfortunate malady did not rob
her of all her faculties ! Nevertheless she begins
to think her head is better, and if the spring comes
there is every reason to hope she will recover her
wonted gaiety.

I should have a most fertile imagination if I
could think of any family events to tell you. Call
up one of the days of old ; such are our days at
present, save that we have lost you and Laurentia
and are far from having filled your places.

m 2

1 64 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

There is nothing new in Paris but what you
already know. I mean General Berton's appeal to
arms ; the missionaries and the dispersion of the
schools ; the enthusiasm over the nomination of
Liberal Deputies ; then Talma, who makes up like
Bonaparte in the part of Sylla, and whom every-
body is rushing to see.

Pray shake your husband by the hand and let
him take the half of all the affectionate messages
I send you. Grandmamma embraces you, and so
does papa ; and mamma is in the seventh heaven
at the prospect of this journey. Farewell. I
embrace you with all my heart, and beg you will
believe that my affection is not diminished an
atom by distance or by my silence. There are tor-
rents that make a terrible rush, and yet their
beds are quite dry a few days after ; but there are
waters which flow sluggishly, but flow for ever.
Farewell.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 65

To Madame Sur ville.

D Villeparisis : 1822.

To the Casket containing all things delightful ;
to the Elixir of Virtue, of Grace, and of
Beauty ; to the Gem, to the Prodigy, of all Nor-
mandy ; to the Pearl of Bay eux ; to the Fairy
of St. Laurence ; to the Madonna of the Rue
Teinture ; to the Guardian Angel of Caen ; to
the Goddess of Enchanting Spells; to the
Treasury of all Friendship — to Laura !

My dear Sister, — You know those old comedies
wherein Crispin, Lafleur, or Labranche, after prac-
tising some abominable trick on that good M.
Géronte, throw themselves on their knees, confess
their transgressions, and sue for pardon on the aus-
picious occasion of Mademoiselle Lucile's marriage.
Well, then, imagine your poor brother on his
knees before you; turning up his eyes like a mis-
sionary priest delivering a homily, and supplicating
you not to visit him with your displeasure because
he has not written to you. He twists and turns his
hat, waiting till the corners of Laura's pretty little
mouth begin to dimple and then laugh heartily at the
attitude of Sir Honoré. Am I forgiven ? Yes.

1 66 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Concerning Vilkparisis.

Let me inform you that Mdlle. de B has

had a narrow escape of breaking herself into three

pieces by a fall ; that Mdlle. E is not such a

fool as we all thought — that she has a genius for
high art painting, and even for caricature ; that she
is a musician to the tips of her toes — that M.

C continues to swear ; that Madame de B

has turned dealer in oats, bran, wheat, and hay,
having discovered, after forty years' mature deli-

beration, that money is everything. M. de B

sees no better out of his eyes this year than last.
Madame Michelin has been confined of a Miche-
line, whereof M. Michelin is the legal parent.

We possess a colonel, who is looked on
as a bottle of the essence of scampishness.
He was once an opera dancer, who woke up a
colonel in 1 793, and has continued the same till
this moment If you will take his word for it, he
declined his step to a generalship. The wife
of this colonel is an excellent person ; we saw her
for about five minutes, and in that time she talked
a good quarter of an hour. That is how grand-
mamma came to know that she once kept a grocers

shop, and sold treacle to little boys and ginger-
bread to old men-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 67

The Balzac Household.

If I unluckily meet old Mother Pelletier 1 and
say a word to her, I have to stand for three hours
to learn (what do I say ? — learn ?) — to know what
I knew before — that she is deaf, that Madame
Tomkin is Madame Tomkin, that her son is ill,
and that Pelletier is a gay fellow, &c. &c.

Louise 2 has health of which one might say
what Madame du Barry said of the coffee of
Louis XV. ; Louis 8 clatters about, begins fifty
things and never finishes one, smokes his pipe, is
dirty, but withal a very good servant.

Madame de Balzac has one foot in Paris, the
other in the country. Papa is immovable as a
rock. Grandmamma thinks he is very happy to
have a cold heart and good digestion, and to be
able to laugh at everything. Papa says that
grandmamma is a clever actress, who knows the
value of a walk, of a glance, and how to fall grace-
fully into an easy chair.

Henry has grown fifteen inches in four
months. Honoré does not grow at all, alas ! but
his reputation grows day by day, as you may
judge from the following table : —

1 The housemaid. ' The cook, * The valet

168 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Francs.

' L'Héritière de Birague ' sold for . . 800
'Jean Louis' „ i>3<>o

' Clotilde de Lusignan ' „ 2,000

Copies of the first are already offered to the
rapacity of the good people of Bayeux and
Caen.

The author is blown out like a frog with
thinking that Fame may borrow the likeness of
Madame Surville and blow her trumpet heartily.

Dear sister, I am going to work like Henry
IV7s horse before it was in bronze, and this year
I hope to earn the twenty thousand francs that
are to found my fortune. I have to write ' Le
Vicaire des Ardennes/ ' Le Savant/ l ' Odette de
Champdivers ' (an historical novel), and ' La
Famille R'hoone/ besides a heap of little pieces
for the theatre.

In a short time Lord R'hoone * will be a man of
fashion, the most amiable of authors, and ladies
will love him like the apple of their eye. When
they see the little Honoré arrive in his carriage,
holding his head high, with a proud look, his
chest thrown out — at his approach there will be a
soft murmur of applause, and they will say, ' It is

1 Afterwards published tinder the title of Le Sorcier \ it now
stands as Le Centenaire,

* * Lord RTioone ' was one of Balzac's noms-de-plume*

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 69

the brother of Madame Surville.' Then men,
women, and children will leap like hills, and I
shall have no end of bonnes fortunes. I have
renounced dowagers, and will only look at
widows under thirty. Send all those who come
under your hand to ' Lord R'hoone, Paris.' That
will be address sufficient ; he is well known at the
barriers.

N.B. — They must be rich and amiable. Beauty
is not so essential. Varnish soon rubs off, but the
essentials remain.

Poor Edward has been stopped in the

grooves of life. He has begun to send his equi-
pages and jockeys on an embassy to the greatest
sovereign in the sublunary world — Death.

Cousin V is up and about again, and

works more tapestry than ever. His wife is al-
ways full of gentleness, but hitherto has not been
able to induce a servant to remain with her ; and

Cousin R is indefatigable in telling her of

some she has heard of through Mesdames Lina,
Cardon, Poirié, &c. &c, known or unknown, living
with Madame C D H .

Cousin Victorine has been three times to
dine with us, and each time it was always a fort-
night since she had eaten anything whatever. I
have been to visit Madame D . She is always

I70 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

lovely and attractive. And M. D is always ill ;

he is never well except in Normandy. I found
her dressed like an angel, with always the same
charming figure, insipid face, and languishing
eyes. She reproached me for not having been to
see her for so long. We talked of Platonic love
and then of other love, and she invited me to her
Friday evening receptions. Her salon is adorned
with two large portraits : on one side is that of

M. D in an attitude mensongère \ on the

other is that of Madame D , not in the least

like her, playing on the piano. It is a pity
that one cannot hear it. This portrait is the
tenth that A know of. Shall I ever know the
original ?

How can I have the heart to write all this
nonsense to you when we are in so much
trouble ?

Well, may not one laugh in the extremity of
misfortune as one does in the extreme of prospe-
rity ? To mock everything, like Democritus, is not
that the true philosophy — that which best suits
France, which is always laughter-loving ? Alas !
when I reflect that nothing can avert misfortune,
and that it is foolish to weep over a misfortune
before it comes — well then I cannot help enlisting
under the banner of Roger Bontemps.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 171

Fretting over troubles beats down all energy,
gaiety revives and increases it.

Adieu, dear little sister. Give a hearty grip
of the hand to Surville. Praise ' L'Héritière de
Birague/ and do your best to ensure a great de-
mand for the work in Caen and Bayeux.

To Madame Surville.

Villeparisis : Tuesday Evening, 1822.

Dear, good little Sister, — I love you very much,
and you deserve it all ; but will you tell me why
you only write to me little mouthfuls of letters,
which seem to me no more than a strawberry in
the throat of a wolf ?

You will receive shortly a copy of 'Jean
Louis/ I send it to you only on one condition,
which is, that you swear by your great gods not
to lend it to a living soul, not even to show it,
in order that the sale may not be injured. But
you may praise it much. I have not sent you
1 Birague/ because it is dirty rubbish.

You will find some funny things in 'Jean
Louis/ and types of character, but the plot
is a detestable plot. The sole merit, my dear,
of these two novels is the thousand francs they
bring me ; but this sum is only to be paid by bills

172 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

at long dates. Will they ever be paid ? I begin
by degrees to feel and to know my own powers.
To feel what I am worth, and to sacrifice the first
bloom of my ideas to such unutterable stuff, is
heart-breaking !

Ah, if I had my loaf I would soon mak&a
place for myself, and I would write some books
which perchance might live. My ideas change so
much that the work itself will change soon.

Yet a little while and there will be between
the myself of to-day and the myself of to-morrow
all the difference that there is between the youth of
twenty and the man of thirty. I meditate ; my
thoughts mature ; I recognise the fact that Nature
treated me well when she bestowed on me the
heart and head which I possess.

Have faith in me, my dear sister, for I have
need of some one to believe in me. I do not
despair of becoming something one of these days.
I see now that ' Cromwell ' had not the merit of
being even an embryo. As to my novels, they are
not worth the Devil ; they are not even good
attempts.

You ask me to promise to come to see you at
Bayeux instead of going to Touraine. Doubtless
I should much prefer it ; but it remains to be
seen whether I can travel at all, and this seems

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 73

very doubtful in the midst of all the things I have
undertaken. However, of one thing you may feel
sure — that if I make a journey at all it shall be to
Bayeux.

You are very fortunate, vous autres, to have
mamma in a portrait and in the original besides.

I have no news to tell you, neither political

nor any other. This last fortnight has passed as

if all the days had been one. But, my dear sister,

I think that when one has one's mother the

letters of a good-for-nothing brother cannot be

very interesting ; so I hasten to conclude this by
assuring you that I always love you very much,

though it has been somewhat less since you have

■

possessed our mother.

Farewell. Keep in good health, and think
sometimes of us. To-day it is I who am com-
missioned to convey the kind remembrances of
the Villeparisian trio. Farewell, naughty one, you
who write to me so sparingly, who keep mamma
to yourself and who say nothing — farewell and
love. . . .

174 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Surville.

Viileparisis : August 14, 1822, Morning.

Laura, little Laura, — With the same energy
you put forth when writing to Madame Delannoy, 1
1 Smother Montargis ! ' do I now write, Send me
the MS. of the ' Vicaire des Ardennes ' !

Mark me. You know in what a state of pecu-
niary embarrassment I made my arrival in Paris.
No sooner alighted than I was laid hold of by
Citizen Pollet, who would not loose his hold till I
had signed a contract binding me to supply him
with two novels between this and October 1 . The
first is ' Le Savant/ the second ' Le Vicaire/
They are to go to press conjointly, and the fellow
has given me two thousand francs — six hundred
cash and the rest in bills at eight months, the
whole distributed according to the date of delivery
of each volume. Only a thousand copies will be
printed of the two novels, and I only sell one
edition. Taking into count the dates of the bills
and the ready money, this is twice as much as
I got for ' Clotilde/

1 An old friend of the Balzac family, who frequently came to
the aid of Honoré, and to whom he dedicated La Recherche de
l'Absolu.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 75

Accordingly, we have the month of September
in which to finish ' Le Vicaire/ I think it will not
be possible for us to write each of us two chapters
a day, so that I might have ' Le Vicaire ' by Sep-
tember; even then I should only have a fort-
night in which to recast it. Consider this.

I hope you will see, little Laura, that the in-
fernal need of gold has caused me to sacrifice our
project of doing ' Le Vicaire ' together. But, on
the other hand, I have made an advantageous
stroke, inasmuch as you are sure of selling your own
novels to Pollet. As soon as I receive the manu-
script of * Le Vicaire ' I will send you the plot of
a novel clearly set forth, and I think the parent
stock of its ramifications will be an idea suggested
to me by Laura. If you have any pity for me you
will send me that devil of a ' Vicaire ; ' and if you
suspect deceit I will send you the Pollet con-
tract stipulating a forfeit if the ' Vicaire ' is not
printed by the month of November.

There is the more need of promptitude as
Auguste Ricard is doing a ' Vicaire,' and mine
must be out six months before his. Luckily these
works cost but little labour in the planning ; it is
but heading the chapters and filling up the pages.

Such a grinding task, Laura, would be an
impossibility for you. I do not think you could

176 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

do sixty pages of novel-writing in a day. How-
ever, if you can — if you can answer for it that you
will send the novel by September 1 5 — go on. But,
seeing there's that dog of a forfeit if I have not the
manuscript ready on September 1 7, I shall set to
work, and you know that for a Pollet one can
write a novel in a month.

Now the atrocious deed is done. I began
with self-interest — odious, filthy, abominable self-
interest. I drop this and leave you to the im-
pulses of your own generosity. I have told all.
Now judge, and, although you are an interested
party, your decision shall be final. In any case,
if you resolve to send the manuscript, despatch it
by the diligence, with the address, ' Villeparisis, on
the road to Metz,' and let the parcel be securely
packed and tightly fastened with string, that this
famous ' Vicar ' may not be lost on the way.

I shall then send you the plan of a novel about
the ruin of a great house by a small enemy.

I was very well received at Villeparisis.
Mamma had not read your letter. She was in
Paris. I stayed till Monday morning, working
away like a negro slave, for ' Le Savant ' is in the
press, and I am correcting as it proceeds. Every
minute is to me as precious as gold.

I have nothing to write about the household.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 77

All goes on as usual ; the present resembles the
past.

Heaven forgive me ! I was nearly forgetting
to thank you for your touching hospitality ; but I
swear to you that my heart is half the day upon
that sacred ottoman on which I used to lie at my
length in those short pantaloons, without stock-
ings, and without cravat !

Heaven ! earth ! ocean ! oh, sacrilege ! oh, abo-
mination ! oh, calamity ! scourge ! pestilence ! I
have left at your house my knife, the dear knife
that never leaves me ! Mamma declares I have
also left a dinner napkin with a red border, also a
pocket-handkerchief. You will make all this right.
I have not yet had time to go to the address M.
Varin gave me. I have been over head and ears
in business. For the next week I shall be trotting
all over Paris like a post-horse about my news-
paper articles. If Surville goes to Caen let him
ask everywhere for 'Clotilde;' the poor aban-
doned creature sticks on the shelf. My soul
is at rest on money matters ; but I am grilling
in respect of delivering my volumes by fixed
dates.

I have read the beginning of ' Wann Chlore.' *
It pleased them at Villeparisis. Papa is well. He

1 Now called Jane la Pâle.
VOL. I. N

178 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

nearly choked me with laughter just now with his
queer sayings.

Grandmamma is enjoying a nervous attack;
mamma is very well. Grandmamma insists she
ought to have had two shirts sent her to make, and
this morning began the one I brought.

Sum total : if you have in you a spark of pity,
of high-mindedness, you will send me ' Le Vicaire/
for a penalty of a thousand francs terrifies me.

I am jumping from twig to branch ; my head
is full, and the possibility of my earning now at
once my bread for next year bewilders my brain.

Farewell. I embrace you with all my heart,
and will write to you full details in a fortnight,
when I shall have recovered from my Parisian
fatigues.

To Madame Surville.

"l Paris : August 20, 1822.

Dear Sister, — You have got me into a great
mess. Auguste is doing a 'Vicaire/ as I told you.
Mine is sold. Pollet is waiting from day to day
for its despatch, as what is done of it must go to
press. I shall write it as they go on printing it

Therefore, by all that is dear to you, and if you
have any care for the interests, glory, or self-love
of your brother, directly you receive this letter

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 79

send off the manuscript by the diligence. Wrap
it in two or three sheets of brown paper, cover
them with oil- cloth, and address it to 4 M. Honoré
de Balzac, Villeparisis, on the road to Metz.'
Declare the contents to be papers — anything you
like.

Three times have I been to the coach office
to find out if you had despatched anything. I am
on burning coals. Just now I am in Paris, but
I go back to-morrow to Villeparisis. I came
about the newspapers, &c.

I have seen Laurentia. She is quite well.

I had forgotten M. Varin's letter of introduc-
tion, and I have not yet been able to see his
brother. But I return in September to give in
the end of ' Le Vîcaire des Ardennes ' and of ' Le
Centenaire/ and to touch my money.

I really hardly know what I am writing, for
my head is padded with business matters, and
from this time to six weeks hence I shall not have a
chance of writing a line. . I have to give in ' Wann
Chlore' by October to Hubert; I must write
1 Le Vicaire ' as they go on printing it, and correct
the proofs of ' Le Savant ; ' besides which, I have
to give lessons to my brother and young de Berny.
So you may judge.

Ask M. Varin, if he writes to his brother, to

N 2

l8o MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

be kind enough to say I have been too busy to

stir out, that three works of mine are being printed

at once, and that I cannot call on him for some
weeks to come.

Look well after the newspapers. They made
me pay two francs each for the missing numbers.
You may now feel sure that, however abominably
bad your novel may be, I am certain it will be
sold. I will send you the plan, and advise you to
work at it promptly, for the sooner it is done the
better price it will fetch. There is a dearth of
novels. I repeat again, Send ' Le Vicaire ' by
return of post. Auguste has not begun, but he
is likely to beat me in speed.

I send you once more a harvest of thanks for
your hospitality ; and there is something I had for-
gotten which must be set right, but on September
i I shall draught the deed.

I have bought a superb Lavater, which I am
having bound.

If you want anything apply to me.

I embrace Surville with all my heart, and your-
self also as much as I can without mutual injury,
and as soon as I have a moment to spare I will
write a long letter, closely written, with all the
news of the family.

I have seen the diorama ; Surville need draw

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC l8l

no more perspectives. Daguerre and Bouton
have astonished all Paris. A thousand problems are
solved now, that whilst standing before a cloth
stretched on a frame, you can believe yourself
inside a church, within a hundred yards of all you
see. It is one of the marvels of the age, a conquest
by man for which I was altogether unprepared.

That rascal Daguerre has achieved a huzzy of
an invention, by which he will pocket a good
share of the money of these Parisian rascals.
And so tell 'your tale.

Farewell. I embrace you.

' Le Vicaire ! ' ' Le Vicaire ! ' ' Le Vicaire ! ' • Le
Vicaire ! ' by return of post ; for I am going to
work at it I shall begin the second volume. Good-
bye once more.

■

Your hand in mine — you and I, and nobody
by. Send me ' Le Vicaire ! '

^

To M. Godart, jun. } Engraver, Alençon.

Paris : April 19, 1825.

Sir, — I have communicated to M. Urbain
Canel the agreement which we signed together
last Sunday, and you will find his ratification en-
closed. To-day I have shown his ratification,
hereunto annexed. I have shown your engravings

1 82 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

this very day to M. Deveria, 1 who was very pleased
with them and congratulated us on having found
so competent a translator of his designs. He told
me it was impossible he could give you any advice
with regard to the engravings I showed him, be-
cause he is unacquainted with the original design,
but he feels certain that if you go on working you

will be, by the time you have done two or three of

our engravings, the most formidable antagonist of
Thompson and the English engravers.

As soon as you return the blocks of Molière 2
which you were to receive from Delongchamps, 8
M. Deveria will lose no time in communicating
his remarks, for he will enlist your talent with all
the more pleasure that you are a Frenchman.

It is beyond a doubt, therefore, that you will
give the benefit of your labours to our editions of
La Fontaine, of Racine, and of Corneille, and we
shall rejoice to be the first to give you a helping
hand.

You may all the more safely begin to work

1 The connection of Balzac with Deveria, which originated thus,
led to a long and firm friendship. Honorine was dedicated to
Deveria.

8 This was when Balzac went into his publishing speculation
in 1825, which failed through inexperience. To extricate himself
from his precarious position he undertook the publication of the
Classic French Authors, but abandoned the undertaking after
issuing a one volume edition of Molière and de Fontaine.

* A Paris publisher.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 83

upon the vignette for Molière as M. Deveria will
not be able to let us have any blocks for the La
Fontaine before this day week. You have, there-
fore, some ten days before you for work. But,
dating from the 27th of this month, we shall send
you plenty of drawings.

You can prepare some score of blocks exactly
similar to that which Delongchamps will have
sent you, and despatch them to us together with
the vignette of the Molière when it is engraved.

I know not how you have got the Delong-
champs skein out of its tangle, but I left him in a
state of great anxiety after I had informed him
of our agreement. You may be assured that M.
Urbain and I will never oppose your working
for the Molière, since we are interested in it ; but
we wish to reserve to ourselves the right of giving
to one vignette precedence over others ; so I hope
Delongchamps will not have frightened you.

Accept, sir, the assurance of all the esteem and
consideration with which ' I have the honour to
be your very humble and very obedient servant.

P.S. — Pray present my compliments to your
father, whom M. Urbain is willing to employ as
a correspondent. You will shortly receive books
with the drawings. Have perseverance and
courage, and you will acquire fame and profit.

184 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Surville % Versailles.

X Paris : 1827.

My dear Laura, — Your letter has occasioned
me two detestable days and two detestable nights.
I chewed the cud of my defence point by point, like
Mirabeau's memoir to his father. I was getting
in a blaze over the task, but I give up writing it
out. I have not the time, my sister, and, besides,
I do not feel myself to blame.

I am reproached with the fitting up of my
room; but the furniture in it belonged to me
before my catastrophe. I did not buy a single
article. Those hangings of blue calico, about
which there has been so much fuss, were in my
room at the printing office. Latouche and myself
nailed them up to cover a hideous paper, which
in any case must have been changed. My books
are the tools I work with; I cannot sell them.
The taste which harmonises everything in my
room is not to be bought for money (unfortu-
nately for rich people). Moreover, I set so little
store upon these things that if one of my creditors
were to have me secretly put into Sainte-Pélagie
I should be happier there; I should live for
nothing, and I should not be any more a pri-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 85

soner there than I am kept captive here by hard
work.

The postage of a letter or the fare of an
omnibus are expenses that I dare not allow
myself, and I seldom go out for fear of wearing out
my clothes. Is this plain speaking or is it not ?
Do not, then, urge me to journeys, to visits,
to undertakings, which are impossible for me ;
nor forget that I have only time and labour for
my capital, and that I have nothing wherewith to
provide against the most trifling expenses.

If you would also remember that I am always
obliged to be pen in hand, you would not have
the heart to exact more correspondence from me.
To write when ones brain is weary and one's
soul filled with anxieties ! I should only afflict
you, and to what end ? Cannot you understand
that before I sit down to work I have sometimes
seven or eight business letters to answer ?

There is still a fortnight's more work over
' Les Chouans.' Until then you will hear nothing of
Honoré ; you might as well interrupt the metal
founder in the midst of his casting.

Do not think I am in the wrong, dear sister : if
you gave me this idea I should lose my head. If
my father should fall ill you would let me know,
would you not ? You know that in such a case no

1 86 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

human consideration would prevent me going to
him.

I must earn my living, dear sister, without ask-
ing anything from anyone. I must live that I may
work, and pay all I owe to everybody. When my
' Chouans ' are finished I will bring the book to
you ; but I do not want to hear a word said about
it, either good or bad. Relatives and friends
are incapable of judging an author rightly.-
Thanks, dear champion, whose generous voice
defends me. Shall I live long enough to pay
the debts of my heart, as well as my other debts ?

To Madame Zulma Carraud} St. Cyr

{Seine- et- Oise),
j

l Paris : Saturday Morning, 1828.

Madam, — It is with regret that I find myself
starting on a rather long journey without having
been able to call and thank you for your amiable
letter and for all the kindness you have shown me.
Scarcely even have I time to take leave of you by
letter; but I hope, madam, that you will shew in-

1 Madame Carraud, a native of Touraine, was a friend from
childhood of Laura de Balzac, and through this tie she was deeply
devoted to Balzac La Maison Nucingen is dedicated to her. Her
husband, M. le Commandant Carraud, was in 1830 and 1831
instructor of the military school at St. Cyr. He was subsequently
inspector of the powder magazines at Angoulême.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 87

dulgence towards and excuse a poet whose mode
of action is thus capricious. I am going away to
work. Should you go down to Berry, write me a
word to Tours, poste restante, and in the month
of July or August I shall return by Issoudun. All
roads, as you know, lead to Paris.

Be good enough, madam, to recall me to the
remembrance of the gentlemen of your family, and
make my kind compliments to them.

If I do not return by Issoudun I shall at any
rate return by St. Cyr.

Adieu, madam, and be assured that my re-
membrance of you will not fade amidst all the
impressions I go to seek.

Accept my respectful homage.

To the Duchess d Abranth} Versailles.

Villeparisis : July 22, 1828. .

Madam, — The letter which my sister was to
send you is the only one I have received from M.
Dillon. If he has not written to you, find fault
with him, and not with your poor courier. How-
ever careless I may seem, I have not yet come to
the pitch of strewing the road with papers that
you confided to me as most important In spite

1 La Femme abandonnée is dedicated to her.

1 88 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

of your wish to be angry pray take me once more
into your good graces ; try never to scold me with-
out good cause, and I will not accuse you of suscep-
tibility.

What idea had you of my discretion when
you so sternly ordered me to keep to myself the
translation of Casti and Inez ? I swear to you I
know better than anybody the requirements and
modesty of authors, and I am not a man to tear
away that veil with which you cover your
writings, like those florists who throw a gauze
over their wreaths whilst they are being made.
Now I want to ask you why you did not tell the
story of Inez as it really happened ? Why did you
put an icy old man between your feelings and the
truth ? No doubt you know Sterne by heart ; do
you remember the story of Maria ? To my mind
the introduction of a third person in this old man
destroys the charm, especially in a story pro-
fessing to be told by one person to the ear of
another ; it is a case in which the ' I ' cannot fail to be
graceful. Did we not agree one day that what
is natural is what alone ought to be prized ? and
has not La Fontaine sketched the duties of
travellers in those lines where one pigeon says
to the other —

J'étais là ; telle chose m'avint ;
Vous y croirez être vous-même ?

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 89

As to turning things into ridicule, I admire
the good faith with which people talk and write ;
what an ebb and flow of contrary opinions are
continually balancing each other.

You have done me the honour to believe that
I have some distinction of intellect, that I am one
of those people who, without being marked out
for high destinies, nevertheless know how to raise
themselves above meaner things, and that I am
not one of those fools who, when the rain or the
fine weather, the heat, jockeys, actresses, the
fashions, and gossip are taken away, are like be-
sieged persons whose provisions are cut off.
Thank you humbly for this opinion ; I shall not
tell you whether I am flattered, nor whether it is
true ; I will only remind you that you wrote it —
that you are frank, and therefore you must have
thought it Can you, then, believe that a mind
whose ideas have some breadth, which gathers
great affinities, which sees things en masse, is
likely to descend to ridicule ? Ridicule is the
coldest of all things in the world ; it always be-
trays some dryness of heart, and that which is
great is rarely without what is good also. Besides,
I will ask you what it is that I should ridicule ?

Rousseau would have said roughly, ' Why do
you fancy you will be laughed at ? ' The history

ICO MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

of Inez is good, but only as an accessory to a
longer story ; as a tale by itself it would lose all
force ; it is a flower which is seen to advantage
only in the midst of a bouquet.

I ask you once more, who can have told you
that I was held in flowery chains ? to what fairy
do I owe your recommendation to go without a
bourrelet^ leading strings, or nurse ? I can
assure you, madam, I have a quality for which I
do not gain credit even from those who think they
know me best, and that is energy.

You must, from your own experience, have
discovered how misfortunes develope in us that
terrible power of stiffening oneself to breast the
storm and of preserving a calm and steady aspect
in adversity. Pardon me if I speak in the first
person, but you force me to do so, in spite of my
reluctance. I have acquired the habit of smiling
at misfortune.

There is only one occasion when I give way
to sarcasm, and that is when Fortune torments
me, which she has never yet ceased to do. I am
old in suffering, though you would not suspect
it from my cheerful looks.

I cannot even say that I have had reverses, for

1 A cane or whalebone wicker cap, to protect children's heads
from the furniture when learning to walk.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. ICI

I have been always bowed down under one
terrible weight of care. This may sound like
exaggeration — an attempt to attract your interest
— but it is not so. Nothing I could say would
give you any idea of my life up to the age of
two-and-twenty. I am surprised that I have no
enemy to struggle against except Fortune.

You may question those about me as much as
you please, but you will obtain no light upon the
nature of my unhappiness. There are people
who die, and physicians cannot tell the malady
which has killed them.

I have said all this only that you may be
aware of the hard constraint under which I have
had to live. The result has been to endow me
with a savage energy, and a hatred of which you
can form no idea for whatever seems like a yoke.

Your habit of command makes a refusal seem
to you like a great misfortune. Well, I am not talk-
ing of refusals. There is nothing so philosophical
in the world as a refusal or contempt that is not
deserved.

I am speaking of domination. To live under a
domination is to me insupportable ; I have refused
everything in the shape of place because of the
subordination it entails. Upon this point I am a
real savage. And it is me whom you imagine

IÇ2 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

being led, or of whom people have told you that /
am led! Nothing could well be more false.

Once more, madam, as I do not wish to
speak longer about myself — for it is very irksome
to me, and it is also very absurd — I will only say
that you will not be able to come to any conclu-
sion about me or against me from myself, except
that I have the most singular character of anyone
I know. I make a study of myself as I would
study another. I contain within my five feet four
inches all possible inconsistencies, all possible con-
tradictions.

Those who believe me to be vain, spendthrift,
obstinate, careless, without continuance of ideas, a
coxcomb, negligent, idle, without application, with-
out reflection, without steadiness, a gossip, with no
tact, ill-bred, uncivil, whimsical, uncertain in tem-
per, would be just as accurate in their estimate as
those who might say that I am economical,
modest, courageous, tenacious, energetic, easy in
manner, industrious, constant, silent, full of tact,
civil, always cheerful. He who says I am a coward
is no more in the wrong than he who says I am
exceedingly courageous. In short, wise or igno-
rant, full of talents or a fool, I am no longer as-
tonished at myself. I end by believing that I am an
instrument to be played upon by circumstances.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 93

Is this kaleidoscope given, then, by chance to
the minds of those who attempt to paint the
human heart and all its affections, so that they may
by the strength of their own imagination feel what
they describe ? And is not observation a kind of
memory which comes to the aid of this quick ima-
gination ? I begin to think so. However, allow
me to assure you that no one in this world more
abhors a yoke — the very yoke you mean in your
letter — than I do. This is enough about myself.
I hope, after this confession, you will never make
me speak of myself again. But about yourself ?
How is it that you are ill — you, who wear all the
livery of health ? Plato calls the body that ' other/
Then I say I am sorry for the sufferings of your
1 other ' ; but as regards your mind it must always
be the same.

I expect to go soon to Paris ; but, in spite of
my inclination, it will be next to impossible for me
to go to Versailles. I have a world of things to
do. Are there not three of my teeth which must
come out ! You see we are both in the hands of
doctors. I know you will be vexed with me, and
Versailles is only five leagues from Paris ; but I
can assure you of one thing — that it lies on the
road from Paris to Tours.

The rapidity with which I have written has

vol. 1. O

194 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

obliged me to read over these three pages, and I
have laughed to see the facility with which we
furnish arms against ourselves. You will laugh
at me and at my horror of all that is like sub-
jection and commands. At least promise me that
you will only laugh between ourselves ; and if
you can show me that I am wrong, no one is more
disposed than myself to quit the path of error.
Adieu, madam. I hope you will be without
anxiety about your health when you receive this
letter, and I beg of you to accept my sincere and
respectful friendship.

i To Madame Zulma Carraud.

Paris : January 1829.

Madam, — I hope you will not be failing in
charity towards an unfortunate wretch who is
working night and day, even to the extremity of
death. If you come to Paris, you will not forget
me — will you ? Just imagine : I have twenty
times taken my hat and gloves to go to St
Cyr, and as many times I have been stopped by
business. But, even at the risk of losing a chance
of getting money, I will come one of these days to
you — I hope to breathe in quiet near you, far away
from work and trouble.

I have heard that you have had a great sorrow,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 95

and I sympathise with you in it. M. Boyet 1 tells
me that you have been ill ; therefore I excuse you
for leaving me without a letter and in ignorance
of your suffering.

If you should be coming to Paris, tell me the
day, in order that I may get my liberty for that
day. Then if the proofs, if the MS. which must
be ready, have left me alive, I will come from the
3rd to the 6th to St. Cyr to pay my late New
Year's Day visit.

Recall me to the kind remembrance of the
gentlemen, and accept this expression of a warm
friendship and an unchanging gratitude.

To Madame Surville, Champrosay, near Corbeil

(Seine-et-Oise).

Château de Sache : 1829.

What is this that you say, my dear sister —
that I neglect you, that I do not write to you, when
there are no less than two letters which I have
written to you for one little bit of a scrawl you have
written to me ! It is not, however, I who keep
count of letters !

I should have a great deal to say to you. Only

1 Auguste Boyet, genre painter, author of La Chine ouverte and
of La Chitu et les Chinois, one of the first artists to initiate us into
the mysteries of the Celestial Empire. Auguste Boyet at this time
lived in the Rue Cassini, near the Observatory, and in the same
rooms with Balzac.

O 2

196 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

figure to yourself that M. de Margonne l is leaving
to-morrow ; and in the wish to send you a little
letter without cost of postage I have quitted my
work, and I have not more than one quarter of an
hour in which to write to papa, mamma, and to
you. But patience ! As soon as my novel shall
give me a little respite, I promise, and you may
depend upon it, that you shall have a long, imper-
tinent letter, which shall have no end, and one also
to your husband, to whom I owe an answer, and
I promise you shall be content In your little
letter you seem rather low-spirited. Is it that
Sophie is not well, or is it that she will no longer
say * ga/ or has she deteriorated from the genti-
lesse which you foresaw for her in futurum ? I
might also say that you tell me nothing. If you
knew how busy I am — plus qiie le légat, as mamma
says. I have visited all St Lazare, 2 and have seen
many things that needs doing.

P.S. — I am at Tours to-day, and am going
to-night to Madame d'Outremont's Ball — ousque.

I intend to dance with Eliza B and Clara

D , who is so small that one could only marry

her to make her into a breast-pin. Adieu, dear sister.
A thousand kind regards to your husband. The rest
shall come in the next number — I swear it to you.

1 His host at Sache, to whom La Messe d'Athée is dedicated.
' A farm which Madame de Balzac possessed near Tours.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 97

To Madame Surville, Champrosay y near Corbeil

(Seine-et-Oise.)

Château de Sache : 1829.

Ah, Laura, if you only knew how I dote (but
hush!) on two blue screens embroidered with
black (hush again !) This is a subject to which,
amidst all my cares, my thoughts still revert.
Then I said, • I will confide this longing to my
sister Laura. When I possess these screens I
never can do anything bad. Shall I not always
have before my eyes a remembrance of that so in-
dulgent sister — so indulgent to her own fancies, so
severe to mine ?' Just now before my fire I per-
formed that contractile gesture of the arms and
hands peculiar to you (and not unlike a flapping
of wings) when you are pleased with yourself, or
with a bon-mot or anything you like. Then I
thought of you, and I said, ' I must write to her
and tell her I love her, and Surville also/ and
here it is. A quarter of an hour of my time and
a kindly thought are well worth four sous ; so off
with you, Flora, to the box of M. the postmaster.
A grasp of the hand to the Canal. 1 Tell Madame
de F — : — that my regard for her is only just
within the bounds of propriety. As this sweet

1 M. Surville was busy with a project for a canal that Charles
X. wished to have made on the chance of a war with England.

I98 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

flattery is to be conveyed by post, it ought to
increase in weight and in quickness as the square
of the distance increases ; consequently this
speech may crush her if you repeat it all at once.
Sister, adieu.

The designs for the screens may be whatever
you please ; they might be je ne sais quoi, and I
should always find them lovely, as they would
come from my alma soror.

I reopen my letter, dear sister. You will see
by the dates that I was writing to you when your
letter came. I suffer bitterly in being the object
of perpetual suspicions. I think my letter will
answer everything. I am unhappy enough. The
tranquillity of the cloister and peace are necessary
for me to be able to earn money. When I become
fortunate, I shall perhaps have justice done me.
It will then be too late, for I shall not be happy
till I am dead. Does anyone imagine that to
revise forty slips and forty proofs, to rewrite a
manuscript, is child's play ? Do you imagine that
to get four volumes ready for the press between
January 15 and February 15 (which is a volume
a week — and there is one whole one to be written)
can be done by the stroke of a fairy's wand ?

Oh, Laura, Laura, the tears come into my eyes !
We pass life in giving each other needless pain ;

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 1 99

when people do not understand each other better,
distance is a blessing, and coming nearer to each
other causes bitter pain.

I return to the screens. Give me my screens ;
I need more than ever some little pleasure in the
midst of so many vexations.

To Madame Zulma Carraud y St. Cyr.

Paris : April 17, 1829.

Madam, — Have you sometimes said, ' M.
Honoré is very tardy in sending me that oblong
engraving he promised for my glove-box. And my
screen! And my match-holder! He promises
much and performs little/ &c. &c ?

I dare not flatter myself with the reality of
these reproaches; but, in case you should have
thought of me, I throw myself on your indulgence
to forgive my apparent negligence. If you wish
to dwell in a person's thought continually, employ
on your commissions those you love ; for I
tell you there is nothing so eloquent and so tyran-
nical in the world as the remembrance of some-
thing you have to do and have not yet done.

This morning I was by my fireside, busy seal-
ing letters, and every time I took up a fresh
match the two dogs you placed beside my pretty
little piece of furniture barked at me. That was

200 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

for the hundredth time. No, M. Honoré is not
forgetful, but for this month past he has been
obliged to finish a work in a hurry to which he
does not affix his name ; for artists paint pictures
for a livelihood which they do not sign, and pic-
tures to make a name which they send to the
exhibition. That is my case.

You shall have a screen! I contracted that
debt with too much pleasure not to feel it a plea-
sure to discharge it. Moreover, if you take your
match-holder and your screen down to Frapesle, 1
among all the pretty things you have taken
there, it will be a bait to my friendship which I
shall not be able to resist. To be held in re-
membrance by a lovely soul is one of my most
cherished illusions. I am in a lawsuit to obtain
copies of my book, and so long as the case is un-
decided I am deprived of the pleasure of sending
you one, for I do not blush to own I am not rich
enough to buy it.

Recall to M. Carrauds remembrance an
author who is daily becoming more careworn and
misanthropical, but who remembers that some-
times he has forgotten his troubles at St. Cyr.

Present my kind compliments to M. Périollas, 2

1 A country place of M. Carraud, near Issoudun.
8 One of the officials at St. Cyr. Pierre Grassou is dedicated to
him.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 201

and accept for yourself, madam, all that can be
offered that is sweetest and most sincere in the
shape of a compliment

To the Duc/tesse (V Abranth, Versailles.

Paris : 1829.

Madam, — It would be very unpleasant for me
to appear before you conscious of any trans-
gression. I might excuse my vehemence and
too great sensibility by alleging, like the orators
of the Chamber of Deputies, the heat of an extem-
poraneous effusion, for my answer was written in
haste and with an innkeeper's pen ; so impatient
was I to undeceive you.

Without wishing, like the commentators, to
find other than is written in the text, I might
easily reply that because strength extinguishes
sensibility it is not to be inferred that sensibility
has no existence, and yet you have answered me
as though I had said, 'You have no sensibility/
which is the grossest insult that can be addressed
to a woman ; for is it not to strip her with a word
of all that constitutes a woman, since you only
exist, live, please, and attract by your sensibility ?

Let me make a comparison which will put
my thought in a clear and inoffensive light.

202 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Voltaire had a prodigious amount of wit, he had
also genius ; but in the total mass of his mental
constitution the proportion of wit was greater
than of genius : whereas, on the other hand, there
was scarcely any wit about Rousseau and a large
amount of genius.

Now, reasoning on the general argument, let
me tell you that we do not make our own cha-
racters ; we submit to them from birth, obeying
the whimsical conformation of our organs (hence it
has always seemed to me absurd to tax a man of
genius with pride, or to cry up his modesty). But
I do not see that one can repudiate as an outrage
a character so unusual in a woman : it has its
advantages, its brilliant sparkle, its attractions,
equally with that which shines only by an ex-
quisite sensibility. Women, as to character, are
divided into two great classes, the Isidoras 1 (allow
me to quote this touching emblem of grace ,and
submissiveness) and the Staëls, whose masculine
ideas and bold conceptions, whose strength in
short is strangely united with all the weaknesses
of your sex. Clarissa, Richardson's heroine, is a
young girl in whom natural sensibility is continu-

1 The heroine of a romance by the Duchesse d'Abrantès, as
are likewise Belvidera and Bianca Capello, whose names recur
frequently in these letters.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 203

ally extinguished by a power which Richardson
has called virtue. In fact, there are here,
to my mind, two sensibilities, as there are two
kinds of grief: the sensibility of that Spanish
woman whose lover having a duel on his hands
became his second ; arriving first on the ground,
and being asked by the other combatant why she
was there, replied, 'To bury you/ And there is
the sensibility of Bianca Capello, who abandons
honours, riches, her native land, her father, her
religion, all to follow her lover, and, like a second
I si dora, prepares with her hands the repasts of her
beloved.

Do you not think both pictures here presented
equally fine ? To one temper of mind that of
the Spanish woman will be more attractive, to
another Bianca will seem superior. Out of the
reflections suggested by the whimsicalities that
are born of sensibility developed in so many ways
I have formed this axiom for myself: 'Woman is
never so touching or so beautiful as when she re-
nounces all empire, and humbles herself before her
master.' This is telling you that Bianca Capello,
Isidora, and Mademoiselle are my heroines.

Do not run away with the idea that I speak
from fatuity and that sort of feeling, whatever it
be, which you continually attribute to men; I am

204 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

speaking now as an artist — say, a sculptor, who
should maintain that the naked figure is more
beautiful than drapery; for between ourselves I
confess that Bianca Capello, Belvidera, and all such
women who prostrate themselves in an attitude
of perpetual obedience, and watch for a smile, a
glance, a nascent wish, as flowers await the dew,
are the women who exercise over us the most
absolute and complete dominion that ever pos-
sessed the heart with all the power of one sole
imperishable sentiment.

The other character has this incontestable
attraction, that it is a continual incense to mans
vanity. What a satisfaction for a man to reign
over a heart that has never bowed to another!
to see a proud and terrible creature, who tramples
under her feet the entire earth, commands all
that draws the breath of life, and to reign over
her ! He is a king seated on his throne ; he enjoys,
in fact, the rapture of Jupiter's mistresses, who
sported with the brows at whose frown the globe
trembled; and Henry III. hardly deserved the
love of that heroine, that fierce and haughty
one, who beat down beneath her horse's feet
the nobles who had dared to insult her with
their sarcasms.

After these explanations, I think, madam, that

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 205

you will acknowledge my innocence. Permit me
to believe also that the terrible trials of your
life have been meted out to you in proportion
to your strength of character ; that this strength
is the source of many high and noble thoughts
on the ever-shifting spectacle in the midst of
which you have been placed ; that at this moment
the close seclusion into which you have with-
drawn yourself is but as the night awaiting the
dawn of another day. For, indeed, the more I
have thought upon your destiny and the cha-
racter of your mind, the more I am convinced
that you are one of those women privileged
to prolong their reign beyond the limits of ordi-
nary nature ; that you have had it in your power
to do that for a brilliant epoch which Madame
Roland only attempted to do for a period of
sorrow and of glory. I know not if ever you
have felt any of those impetuous impulses that
spring from the heart and overmaster one at the
spectacle of the manifold scenes, heroic figures,
and lofty characters of life, but I wish to believe
it, for yours seems to me a nature stamped
with an especial seal. Could it be chance alone
that launched you on your career through all the
countries of our time-worn Europe, thrown into
commotion by a Titan surrounded with demi-gods ?

20Ô MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

This, madam, was my thought concerning
yourself, but which I had not the leisure to
express while I was at Tours ; and let me add,
that I have given expression to my feelings,
and they are sincere. I may be mistaken, but as
regards your merits I can deduct nothing, add
nothing. There is in my nature a headlong
frankness, which is very like that of Mdlle.
Josephine ; I am too indifferent to be circumspect,
too impulsive to lie. The friendship you deign
to offer me, madam, is a chimera I still pursue,
in the teeth of the frequent disappointments I
have encountered. From my boyhood at school
I have sought not for friends, but a friend. I am
of La Fontaine's opinion, and I have never yet
found what a romantic and exacting imagination
pictures to me in such fascinating colours. The
phenomenon of friendship has always been ex-
plained in my eyes by a physical analogy ; two
beings must have sufficient time to attach them-
selves to each other by accidental conditions of
the soul, like those insects which in spinning
their webs will not fix a thread until they have
made a separate journey to explore the ground for
each thread, and even then return several times to
the spot ; but there are also, I am fain to believe,
certain souls who feel and appreciate each other

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 207

at once. Your proposal, madam, is so delightful,
so flattering, that I am not likely to withhold my
hand.

, To M. Alphonse Levavasseur, Publisher^ Paris.

r

Paris : November 1829.

My poor, unhappy Publisher, — The loveliest
girl in the world can give but what she has. I
work all day long at ' La Physiologie du Mariage ; '
I only give six hours of the night (from nine till
two) to the ' Scènes de la Vie privée/ of which I
have to correct the proofs ; and my conscience is
clear.

I am quite ready to send the copy required to
finish up by the 15th, if you wish ; but it would be
the most atrocious murder that we — you, Canet,
and myself — ever yet committed on a book.

There is a something in me — I don't know what
it is — which prevents me from doing wrong con-
sciously. The question is whether to bring out a
book which shall live — to make waste paper of it,
or a work for the library shelf — whether this blotted
paper shall be sold for seven francs per ream or
for fifty.

If I were an idler, drew up advertisements,
mended old shoes, played billiards, ate and drank,
&c, well and good ; but I have never a thought,

208 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

never stir a step, which is not for the € Physiologie/
I dream of it ; I do nothing else ; I am stricken
with it. I can understand your commercial im-
patience, for mine is tenfold.

The copy lies on my desk, but I am brought
to a halt continually by some story to be told,
by some new idea to be worked out, by — by — in
fact, I might run on till to-morrow telling you how
the author of this work is for ever hovering at
each line between success and the gallows. I
have never yet so thoroughly realised how import-
ant a work this is. I was thinking of a book to
amuse people, when one morning you walk in
and ask me to do in three months what it took
Brillat-Savarin ten years to accomplish. He had
to deal only with godailleries, whereas I have to
deal with the most important question in France.
He had a new subject; mine is the most hack-
neyed.

There is one miracle of which I will boast : it
is that the first volume of ' La Physiologie ' l has
been entirely re-cast into its present shape between
September i and November 10, 1829 ; for on the
10th the Ite, missa est, will be pronounced.

Don't imagine that this letter is a mere excuse.
I am working with ardour and as continuously as

1 La Physiologie du Manage.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 209

any living soul can work ; but I am only the
humble servant of the muse, and the hussy has
her fits of ill temper.

You need not despair, for on the 15th I will let
you know frankly what you may reckon upon.
Not till then shall I have probed the wound to its
full depth — that is, reached the second volume.

Tout à vous.

To Madame Zulma Carraud, St. Cyr.

Paris : 1830.

The feeling of repulsion which you experi-
enced, madam, on reading the first pages of the
book I brought you does you too much honour,
and betokens too nice a sense of delicacy, for even
an author to take offence. It proves that you
do not belong to a world of falseness and perfidy ;
that you are ignorant of that portion of society
which blights everything ; and that you are worthy
to live in that solitude wherein human nature
becomes always so great, so noble, and so pure.

It is, perhaps, unfortunate for the author that
you should not have resisted the first impulse
which seizes on every innocent being on hearing
about crimes — at seeing misfortune described
— on reading Juvenal, Rabelais, Persius, Boileau
— for I think that later on you would have. been

vol. 1. P

2IO MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

appeased; you would have found certain stern
lessons, certain vigorous pleadings in defence of
virtue and of woman. But how can I complain
of a repugnance which is to your honour — how
quarrel with you for remaining true to your
sex ? I therefore humbly beg your pardon for
this involuntary outrage on your feelings, for
which, if you remember, I had prepared myself,
as you may recollect ; and I entreat you to believe
that however severe the judgment you have pro-
nounced on this work will in no way lessen or
alter the sincerity of the friendship which you per-
mit me to entertain for you ; and I hope you will
deign to accept the renewed assurance of my re-
gard, for I assure you that the frank expression of
the feeling of a friend upon an action which seems
to be wrong can only serve to draw closer the
bonds of confidence and esteem.

To Madame Zulma Carravd, St. Cyr.

Paris : April 14, 183a

Madam, — You have indeed been severe. I
know nothing of what happens at St. Cyr, whether
lucky or unlucky, so that I have only been able to
sympathise with you in the vaguest way, and as
a man may who works night and day to sustain
his miserable existence. Ink, pens, paper, are a

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 211

horror to me, and everything like an idea gives
me a shudder. In fact, it was rather your turn to
write to me.

Whatever happens, I will come and see you
this week, in order to bring you the 'Scènes
de la Vie privée/ which was published yesterday.
I have to thank you for subscribing to the
4 Feuilleton/ l I intended every day to come and
see you ; but you know what Paris is — a heap of
sand, like those that roll on the shores of the
Loire. Once step into them, and you cannot escape.
Yesterday it was a matter of business that de-
tained me ; to-morrow it will a delightful soirée,
when Malibran is to sing ; this morning, a bachelor
breakfast ; in the evening, it will be some pressing
work. Thus the gulf devours a lifetime which, if it
were passed in solitude, 'might be full or glorious.

However, do not think I am so very dissi-
pated ; I have worked horribly, and my debauches
take the shape of volumes. In June I hope to
offer you ' Les Trois Cardianux/ 2 a work which
possibly will not be unworthy of attention.

If I have time, I will come early ; and if I
listened to my inclinations, I should stay at that
St. Cyr which you find so dull.

1 Le Feuilleton des Journaux politiques,

2 Balzac never wrote this work. It was intended to bring in le
père Joseph, called F Eminence grise, Mazarin, and Dubois.

P 2

212 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Accept, madam, the homage of a sincere and
respectful friendship.

A thousand compliments to M. Carraud and
Captain Périollas.

To Madame Surville, Charnprosay.

Paris : 1830.

•I have heard that my dear sister has written
there might be no such person as Honoré, for all
Charnprosay knows of him.

Your scoldings, madam, are now before my
eyes. I see plainly you require further informa-
tion respecting this poor delinquent

Honoré, dear sister, is a wild fellow over head
and ^ars in debt, without having had a single
pleasure {bamboche) for the money, and who feels
sometimes as if he could knock his head against
the wall, though some persons will not allow that
he has any head at all.

He is at this moment a prisoner to his room,
with a duel on his shoulders : he is bound to slay
a half-ream of paper, and to transpierce it with
ink that shall be tolerable enough to bring joy
and good cheer to his purse.

This wild fellow has some good in him. He is
called cold and indifferent. Do not believe a word

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 213

of it, beloved sister. His heart is in the right
place, and he would be ready still to do anyone a
good turn, but having no credit with Master Shoe-
sole (Messer Chaussepied) he is no longer in a
plight to run about, as of yore, to oblige anyone.
This is scored up against him as a scandal.

In the matter of affection he is rich, and
certain to return twofold all he receives ; but his
nature is such, that a harsh or offensive word
wipes all the joy out of his soul, so susceptible is he
to all that is refined in sentiment. He needs
friends with hearts which can take life in a grand
way, who know what true affection is, and who
do not think it consists in visits, compliments, and
other foolishness of the like kind. He carries
oddity so far as to receive a friend whom he has
not seen for years as though he had called but
yesterday.

This same wild fellow may forget the harm
that is done him, the good never ; he would
write it on brass, were there any in his heart.

As to what strangers may think or say of him,
he heeds it as the sand that adheres to his feet.
He strives to become something, and when one is
building up a monument one cares litde what
insolent people may scribble on the hoarding.

This young man, such as I describe to you,

214 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

loves you, dear sister, and these words will be
understood by her to whom they are addressed.

To M. Théodore Dablin, Paris.

Paris : 1830.

My dear Dablin, — My sister tells me that
you still bear a remembrance of some sharp
expressions which escaped me in the last visit I
made to you, when I called to. beg you to take a
guarantee, which I thought necessary in case any
accident should carry me off. If anyone could
stand an outbreak of purely artistic anger it is
certainly an old friend who knew me before 181 7,
and who came to see me in the Rue Lesdiguières
when I was suffering my first martyrdom ; but as
I never hurt anyone in my life, not even an enemy,
I deeply regret my warmth in this literary dis-
cussion, since you have remembered my rough
words so long.

This sort of irritation proceeds neither from my
soul nor from my heart ; it is occasioned by the
state of nervous excitement into which coffee
throws me when its effects, instead of expending
themselves on paper, exhaust themselves in air —
that is to say, when, instead of writing, I go out of
doors. An old friend of mine, a lady, detected
this effect of coffee upon me ten years ago ; and

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 215

though I can sometimes control it, there are
times when, through worry, I am unable to do so.
You will have thought my friendship doubly
onerous, whilst all the time I am feeling sorry
enough that you should be so unequally yoked,
for up to the present moment it is I who have
reaped all the advantage.

You know little of me, my dear Dablin, and if
you love me you show thereby that a man may
love a friend as one does a woman, without
knowing her ; but there would be no misunder-
standing between us were you to try to know me
better. A man who for the last fifteen years has
risen every day in the middle of the night, who
has never found his days long enough, who is for
ever struggling against hindrances, can no more go
and look after his friend than he can go after his
mistress. For that reason, I have lost many mis-
tresses and many friends ; but without regret, for
they could not understand my position.

This is why you have never seen anything
of me, except when business brought me. I am
sorry that you did not answer my question as to
the Insurance, for the longer I live the more my
work accumulates, and I cannot be sure that I
shall hold up under unremitting toil. At this
moment two months' travelling in Belgium or

2l6 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

elsewhere would refresh my hot, over-taxed brain,
and give me back the strength to set to work
afresh ; and I have neither the time nor the money
for it. It is now five years since I took a journey,
and to travel is the only relaxation I care about.
I foresee that my destiny will be unfortunate : it
will be that I shall die on the very eve of the day
when all my desires would be realised.

This is why I am anxious that you, my mother,
and Madame Delannoy should be protected from
loss, for you three stand first in my intentions.
M. Ga vault 1 is another, by reason of the services
he renders me, with a devotedness which makes
my heart his debtor, as it is with you and Madame
Delannoy. I certainly have the hope of free and
happy days, which death only can frustrate. This
is why my exhaustion, combined with the necessity
for work, frightens me. I should be more tranquil
if my true friends were guaranteed against an
event which would be sad to them alone.

To M. Victor Ratter, Editor of l La Silhouette, 9

Paris.

La Grenadière : July 21, 1830.

First of all, let me tell you that on seeing your
letter I fancied I caught sight of you in the act of

1 M. P. S. Gavault, avocat, at Paris. Les Paysans is dedicated
to him.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 217

opening my study door, so completely did you
take the form of remorse.

Oh ! if you only knew what sort of a country
is this Touraine ! It makes you forget everything.
I quite pardon the inhabitants for being stupid ;
they are so happy. Now, of course, you know
that people who are very happy are always dull. I
have come to look at glory, the Chamber of Depu-
ties, politics, the future of literature, as though they
were so many poisoned balls for the extinction of
wandering and homeless dogs, and I say to myself,
'Virtue, happiness, life, mean an income of six
hundred francs a year on the banks of the Loire.'

Do come down here for three days. Travel by
Caillard's diligence, on the impériale ; it will cost
you thirty francs there and back (ten francs a day).
And you will have given your approval to my
editorial labours in twenty-four hours, if you set
your foot in my house — La Grenadière, near
Saint-Cyr-sur-Loire, a house situated half-way up
a hill, close to a delightful stream, covered with
flowers — honeysuckles — and whence I gaze upon
landscapes a thousand times more beautiful than
any those rascals of travellers stupefy their readers
by describing. Touraine has on me the effect of
a pâté de foie gras in which one is up to the chin,
and its delicious wine, instead of making you tipsy,

2l8 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

makes you stupid and happy. Accordingly, I
have hired a cottage here until November, for
when I shut my shutters I can work, and I do not
intend to behold that luxurious Paris again till
I have laid in a good stock of literary work.

Fancy, moreover, that I have made the most
poetical journey that can possibly be made in
France, which is to go from hence to the other
end of Brittany, down to the sea, by water — not
dear, three or four sous a league — passing along
the most smiling shores in the world ; I felt my
thoughts grow wider with the stream, which ap-
proaching the sea becomes immense. Oh ! to live
like a Mohican ! — to run over the rocks ! swim in
the sea ! to breathe full draughts of air and sun-
shine ! Oh, how I could feel with the savage !
Oh, how thoroughly I realised the corsair's, the
adventurer's, lives of opposition. As I stood there I
said to myself, ' Life is courage and plenty of good
rifles, the art of steering over the wide seas and
a hatred of men (Englishmen, for instance)/ Oh,
for thirty lusty fellows all of the same mind, and
to trample down prejudices like M. Kernock !

Back again here, without money, the ex-corsair
has become a dealer in ideas and turned his mind to
fishing up his gudgeons for sale. Imagine nowa man
—this vagabondiser {vagabondant) — who beginning

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 2IÇ

with an article entitled ' Traité de la Vie élégante/
ends by writing a volume in octavo, which ' La
Mode ' is going to print and some bookseller to
republish. This comic and killing undertaking
has held me in a vice ever since I wrote to M.
Varaigne. 1 My companion, who is going away for
twelve days or a fortnight, will take this letter to
Paris, and about a third of the volume, and you
will tell me, with your rare and precious frankness,
whether the book is worthy of me. As to ' La
Vie de Château,' Emile has committed a positive
murder by inserting it. It was the rough sketch
of an article thrown off on the edge of the table,
and I had here an article on the same subject,
conscientiously written, when I saw the treacherous
trick of ' La Mode ! ' If you could find me a subject
as suggestive as ' La Vie élégante ' for ' La
Silhouette,' and allow me time enough to let it
settle and clear in my mind, you should see — oh !
oh ! oh !

Your ' Silhouette ' does well with the ' Carica-
tures for the Week.' The idea is a happy one.
But you are ruining the undertaking by giving bad
caricatures. It is a good notion to make up the
number with an explanation of the lithographs

1 Victor Varaigne, joint editor of the Feuilleton des Journaux
politiques.

220 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

and the article ' Caricatures of the Week/ You
ought have an article done by some witty man on
the events of the day, like that in c Le Journal
Rose/ but taking up different facts, and with it a
special article on the fine arts — a criticism of
some picture, book, engraving, &c. This would
give you an excellent form of making up, and
you ought never to depart from it (a friendly piece
of advice). You know that a good counsel is as
good as an eye in your hand, and costs nothing.
A good counsel is an idea, and an idea is a
fortune. Come and spend three or four days
here. We shall be as free as a couple of Iroquois
Indians living in the same wigwam and sharing
the same game. I have a slave here like my
Flora in Paris. By the way, your ' Esclaves du
Sérail ' are mighty stupid. Tell the man who
comments on the caricature that to write funny
things to make one laugh they must rest on a
foundation of truth.

And my philosopher has just written his sharp
epigrams for a journal ! Pro h pudor ! It seems
to me that the ocean, a brig and an English ship
to demolish, though one should go the bottom for
it, is something worthier than a writing desk, a
pen, and the Rue Saint- Denis.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 2 21

Farewell, dear Ratier ; and since we have, or
believe we have, both of us hearts that beat
warmly, let us give each other a grip of the hand.

My respects to Madame Ratier.

Ah, how I regret not having some comrade
with me who could develope all the ideas that
crowd my brain too thickly for me to be able to
work them out !

7!? M. Charles Rabou, Editor of ' La Revue de

Paris'

Nemours : Wednesday, May 18, 1831.

My dear Master, — You really are too bad for
anything. I asked you quite humbly to tell me
whether ' L'Auberge Rouge ' will appear à la
Trinité. You have not answered a word to your
humble servant

I am at this moment on horseback upon a
crime ; I eact, I sleep, in ' L'Auberge Rouge ; ' so
that I may be able on Monday morning, when I
dismount, to give the first paragraph to our friend
Foucault — a pretty little MS. written in the
country, a copy without erasures, trimmed and re-
trimmed, and coquettishly corrected. Ah ! ah ! I
would not disappoint my friend Gosselin, and
give a stab with a penknife to his ' Peau de
Chagrin ' — not for his Majesty Frederick William.

222 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Have the great goodness to write one little line
to ' M. Balzac, at Nemours, Seine-et-Marne,
bureau restant' just to tell me whether it is 'yes '
or ' no/

I know well, wretch of an editor, that you
will say * yes ' at all hazards, and be sure to put
me off from Sunday to Sunday like a fête which
the Pope is puzzled where to place in the
calendar.

But I beseech you {te imprecor), by the manes
of, I know not whom, not to play on my romance-
writing credulity, but to tell me true — if ever the
manager of marionettes could tell the truth.

If you were a friend.

If you were a true friend you would be so
good-natured as to make a little research I require
for ' L'Auberge Rouge ' — namely, to find out
in what month, what year, and under what Re-
publican general the French penetrated, at the
commencement of the Revolution, into Germany
to Dusseldorf or farther, and what corps it was.

I am here without one poor book, alone in a
garden-house at the farthest end of the grounds,
dwelling with my ' Peau de Chagrin,' which,
thank God, is coming to a finish. I work night
and day, taking nothing but coffee. And so I find
it a needful relief from my regular work to work
at ' L'Auberge Rouge.'

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BAL2AC. 223

To Madame Zulma Carraud, St. Cyr.

Good heavens! madam, I have done you
wrong, for I confess I have not yet found a
moment's leisure to read the manuscript of our
dear Lieutenant Duparc, which you sent me, and
I know as well as you do how necessary it is that
it should be well published. 1

The manuscript in question lies on my table,
enforcing with mute eloquence the reproaches of
my own conscience.

Meanwhile the book trade is not as yet suffi-
ciently tranquillised to afford a good opportunity of
getting this translation published. I am not so
very guilty, then, after all. Some time must yet
elapse before I can busy myself about it actively,
effectually, and usefully.

My days and nights have been taken up by
extra work, and I tell you everything when I
confess that I have not written a line of ' La Peau
de Chagrin* since I wrote those few pages at
St. Cyr.

The political labours imposed on me by my
duties as a candidate standing for two arrondisse-
ments 2 absorb all my attention. I have to carry on

1 This refers to a German translation by a poor officer in the
army who had served with M. Carraud.

2 At the elections to fill vacant seats in the Chamber in 1831

224 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

at once my literary occupations, which, as you
know, are my livelihood, and my political studies,
so that sometimes I break down. Besides all this,
I am now forced to make some sacrifices to society,
and I go out into the world much oftener than I
desire. But as for you, you have not written me
one wretched line, not a word to console and
sustain me, in the overwhelming struggle which
threatens to swallow me alive. Though I may not
write to them, I do not think of my friends the
less.

By this time you ought to have received three
copies of my pamphlet.

Think not, madam, I can ever forget my
friends at St Cyr; but from the time I last
saw you I have done nothing but write, ru-
minate, and run about. I am almost ill with it,
and I am going to spend a fortnight in the coun- •
try to tranquillise my mind and finish that unfor-
tunate book, which seems as if it would never
come to an end. Present my kind compliments to
Captain Périollas and to M. Carraud ; remember
me to my partner at backgammon ; and deign to
accept the expression of my respectful friendship,
as of my deep devotion.

Balzac put himself forward as a candidate both in Angoulême and
Cambrai.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 225

You cannot imagine the scene of commotion
into which your article has fallen. Véron sends the
1 Revue ' to the Devil, as a man throws down the
ladder by which he has climbed to the top of a wall.

This poor ' Revue ' has fallen into the hands
of M. Rabou. Véron promised this latter should
come to see me. I went to interrupt Véron in
the midst of a rehearsal by Paganini, to speak to
him about the * Prestige/ l He remembered nothing
whatever about you,— the barbarian. — When I told
Véron (whom I entreated to use his influence with
Rabou) about the commercial interest I have in
you (as you will see further on), he smiled, and I
augur well from his grimace.

I will engage that you shall see and read your
own article very speedily in ' La Revue/ and that
you shall have a letter from Rabou, or I am a
fool. For the rest, you will soon see with what
fidelity I have devoted myself to your affairs.
What you said to me about Cambrai has inspired
me with the idea of offering myself as a candidate.
Ouf ! there ! it is out now ! I have said it. Now
you will say, ' The vile flatterer ! ' Between two
journalists aWjinesse is, I think, thrown away, and

1 A novel by Henri Berthoud, who was at that time editor of the
Gazette de Cambrai, and who wished to become assistant editor of
La Revue de Paris.

VOL. I. Q

226 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

the contract which I sign with you now, is an
undertaking I do not misunderstand. I begin by
doing you as much good service here as will make it
worth your while to assist me in the other matter.

With respect to what concerns yourself, I beg
you to have an article ready wherein you put out
every stitch of canvas. I tell you in confidence,
though without making the sign of the Cross,
that you should round your thoughts and your
periods, impart an indefinable polish to your
phrases, balance short sentences with others of a
more Ciceronian measure, &c, and bring both
poetry and observation to bear upon some new
subject

You will know six weeks hence why I ask you
to have this ready.

Now, as to myself, inform me what style of
political address would best serve me as a can-
didate at Cambrai. The forthcoming Assembly
may probably be very stormy ; it is big with a
revolution. Possibly the people of your arron-
dissement may wish to see a Parisian playing
the game there, rather than one of their own
body ; a town always likes to see itself represented
by an orator, and if I enter the Assembly, it is
with the intention of playing a part in politics,
and to give the benefit of it to those who have

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 22 7

adopted me as a fellow-countryman, and at whose
hands I shall have received the political baptism
of election. All my friends in Paris, right or
wrong, build considerable hopes upon me. I
shall have for supporters you, if you embrace
my idea, ' La Revue de Paris,' € Le Temps/ ' Les
Débats/ ' Le Voleur/ a small journal, and what-
ever I may be able to do myself betwixt now
and then.

I expect from you the same confidence I have
shown in you. You see that with you I burn my
ships.

To M. Charles Gosselin, Publisher and
Bookseller, Paris.

Paris : July 1831.

My dear Gosselin, — I promised to settle Le-
vavasseurs account to-day. Would you have the
kindness to remit by the bearer of this a bill at
three months for two hundred and fifty francs ?

I told you at the time what difficulty I should
have in negotiating bills ; but with this I can pay
a debt, and it will be a matter of indifference to
you whether you give it me to-day or twenty
days hence, as it does not in reality anticipate the
payment

Your nephew will have told you that I have

Q 2

228 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

shut myself up in the house, and I shall not leave
it until ' La Peau de Chagrin ' is finished. I have
well prepared the way for its success. Madame
Récamier has insisted on having a reading of it
in her salon, so that we shall have an immense
number of partisans in the Faubourg Saint-Ger-
main.

You would do well to put an advertisement in
the papers for the provincial librarians, that they
may send you their orders beforehard. You may
safely announce it for the 25th ; we shall come up
to time, or very nearly.

Tout à vous.

And a thousand compliments to Madame
Gosselin. .

To the Duchesse (TAbranth, Versailles.

Paris : July 1831.

We never thought of the fêtes for July 27, 28,
and 29. It will be impossible for me to have
the pleasure of dining with you ; I am in requisi-
tion for the fireworks, the concert, and the donna.
You understand, and will forgive me.

You owe me another day, but it must be before
Saturday, for I am going into the country for a
month.

A thousand friendly things.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 22Ç

Tuesday, if you will. I shall have a letter to
hand to Mdlle. Joséphine. 1

To the Duchesse d y Abrantès.

Paris : 1 83 1.

Pardon me for sending you your money thus
clumsily, but the printers slips might make me
forget my debt ! Only one thing they cannot
disturb in my memory, and that is our delicious
soirée and all your gracious kindness to me. the
flavour of which dwells in my heart still.

A thousand sweet and tender things. And let
Sister Joséphine remember me in her orisons — me
who remember her amidst my musty books.

Homage and devoted friendship.

To Charles de Bernard? Besançon.

Sir, — Let me thank you cordially for the
promptitude with which you have spoken of my
book. 8 A critic of the ' Journal des Débats ' sent
me your article. I was agreeably surprised to find
my intention so happily understood — a piece of
good fortune rare enough in Paris. The analysis

1 Mlle. Joséphine Junot, who hadfor some years been a sœur
de charité.

3 The novelist, author of Le Gendre, on which the play of Still
Waters run Deep is founded.

* La Peau de Chagrin, reviewed in a feuilleton of La Gazette
de France, in 1831, by Charles de Bernard, its founder.

23O MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

of my book is given with marvellous skill and
rapidity, without any straining after wit at the
authors expense — a mark of good taste on the part
of the critic on which I congratulate you. No one
desires more than myself to see organs of opinion
established in every province ; and the votes of the
departments are a great power in the present day
for conscientious authors. They direct them. I
am dealing so frankly with you that you will
allow me, I know, to mention a thought which
has struck me. You are, perhaps, too hasty in
charging the rising literature of the day with an
attempt to imitate the masterpieces of foreign
authors. Do you think that the fantastique of
Hoffmann is not to be found in ' Micromégas/
who already existed in Cyrano de Bergerac, where
Voltaire found him ? Subjects, and the method of
treating them, are open to all the world, and the
Germans have no more the monopoly of the moon
than we have of the sun, or Scotland of the fogs
of Ossian. Who dares to flatter himself that he
has invented anything ? I was not inspired with
my idea by Hoffmann, with whom I was un-
acquainted until after I had thought out my own
work; but there is something in this that goes
deeper. We fail in patriotism, and we are under-
mining our nationality and our literary supremacy.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 23 1

by thus demolishing one another. Did the English
critics ever say that 'Parisina* was taken from
Racine s ' Phèdre ' ? and do they go about flinging
foreign literature at the heads of authors to stifle
their own ? No, they do not. Let us imitate
them. I am glad, sir, to have a subject which has
put me in correspondence with you. I wish every
success to your honourable and excellent under-
taking, and I beg you to accept the expression of
the great respect and regard with which I have
the honour to be your devoted servant.

To the Duchesse d'Abrantès> Versailles \

Paris : 1 83 1.

Madam, — M. Mame will have the honour to
wait upon you this evening at eight precisely. I
have, as we agreed the day before yesterday, laid
down the terms of the contract : — three thousand
francs a volume for two thousand five hundred
copies ; withdrawal of the bargain for ' L' Amirante ; ,l
full security for the printer and for yourself; pay-
ment in cash, on delivery of each volume ; finally,
complete protection of your interests. I shall be
highly pleased to see you come to a settlement, as
you will thus spare yourself a host of troubles.

1 L } A mirante de Cas tille, a romance by Madame d'Abrantès.

232 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Had I been able to leave the house, I should,
with all the devotion I profess towards you, have
made a point of being present at this discussion ; but
though M. Mame can battle tooth and nail, you
will find him a very amiable man in all that does
not concern a publisher's bargain.

To the Duchesse dAbrantès.

Paris : 1831.

Rabou has your article. You will receive the
proofs in two or three days, and you will then read
it more at your ease. You have won success.
Rabou thinks the article is even better than I told
him it was. I am so grieved that you should
suffer thus !

I thank you a thousand times for your coffee ;
it is delicious. I shall come and spend a whole
evening with you — the very first I have to spare.

I am greatly busied to complete one of my
volumes.

A thousand affectionate things and devoted
friendship.

To the Duchesse d'Abrantès.

Paris : 1831.

Then M. Mame, from whom I heard of your
illness, never told you I am confined to bed ?

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 233

But you knew it ! You were not told either that
I have been to see you several times, and that the
answer was that you received no visitors ? I then
sent to enquire for news of you, when I could hear
none from Marne.

Now I shall come and see you as soon as I
have got through the work for which the aforesaid
Mame is waiting in agony.

No, never have any doubts of me. We shall
meet soon. I am glad to have your note, as it
informs me that you are out of danger.

Sincere friendship.

To the Duchesse d'Abrantès.

Paris : Thursday 1831.

I got home in the most miserable manner. I
waited half an hour at the gates of Versailles, and
then I saw a wretched coucou appear above the
horizon, it could only convey me as far as Sèvres.
At Sèvres I hoped to meet with another coucou,
and I wended my way towards Paris by the
glimpses of those lovely and magnificent stars you
were contemplating, and, like you, I rejoiced in
that awful silence which fills the soul. But I had
to walk on ! At last, just as I reached Auteuil
— and there I thought of the mysterious pavilion —
at last I heard the delightful rumble of another

234 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

coucou, which landed me at midnight upon the
Place Louis XV. ; and, in the absence of any
carriage, I had to make the best of my own two
feet to reach my lodgings. As I got into my bed
I said to myself, that the extra quarter of an hour
passed under your window was a compensation
for all my tribulations ; and as I fell asleep, about
half-past two in the morning, I flattered myself
that there was this shadowy resemblance between
us, that you were perhaps sleeping also. And you
write to tell me that you were ill. . . .

They have just brought me in your last letter.
I will not speak of it. That which has just come has
touched me to the heart. You say you are ill and
suffering, and without any hope that finer weather
will do you any good. Remember that for the soul
there arises every day a fresh spring-time and a
beautiful fresh morning. Your past life has no
words to express it in any language, but it is scarcely
a recollection, and you cannot judge of what your
future life will be by that which is past. How
many have begun to lead a fresh, lovely, and
peaceful life at a much more advanced age than
yours! We exist only in our souls. You cannot
be sure that your soul has come to its highest
development, nor whether you receive the breath
of life through all your pores, nor whether as yet

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 235

you see with all your eyes. Plants and flowers
have their gradations, and what numbers of stems
in the forests have never seen the sun !

To the Duchess cT A branles, Versailles.

Paris : 183 1.

You are mistaken with regard to me. I went
to see you ; you were in the country.

There is one fact which rules over my exist-
ence, and that is work — work continued without
relaxation, an incessant toil continued for fifteen
or sixteen hours a day. In the grip of such a
hydra nothing is possible. Friendships that are
feeble must perish ; they require Bugeaud's peck
ôf oats to keep them alive. Strong friendships
can live without, and I have depended upon yours.
As for writing letters, I cannot ; my weariness is
too great. You are not aware of how much I
owed in 1828; I had only my pen to depend on
for my livelihood, and for the means of paying off
one hundred and twenty thousand francs. In a
few months I shall have paid everything. I shall
have realised money ; I shall have arranged my
poor little homestead. But for the next six months
I must endure all the miseries of poverty ; I am
now draining the last dregs of my anxieties. I
have asked help from no one. I have never held

à

236 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

out my hand to beg either for a page of work or
a farthing of money. I have hidden my troubles,
my sores. But you, who know from experience
whether it is easy to earn money by one's pen,
you, with the penetrating insight of a woman, will
see the depth of that abyss which I now reveal to
you, and along the edge of which I have walked
hitherto without falling into it There are still
six months before me, which will be very hard ;
and if even Napoleon grew weary of warfare, I
may venture to confess that the struggle with
misfortune begins to tax my endurance. I am a
poor working man, whom you must come to see
or be content to take him when he comes out for
a Sunday holiday. No one in the world knows
the cost of my visits. I do not say this from
pride ; to a sincere friend I can say these things
with the full trust that we shall not be angry with
each other. What can be grander or more honour-
able than to make a name, to build up a fortune,
by the exercise of ones intellect ? This only ex-
cites envy, and I have little pity for the envious.

Do not believe any evil of me : say to your-
self, ' He is working night and day ;' and wonder
only at one thing — that you have not yet heard
of my death. I am going to digest my dinner at
the Opéra or at the Italiens. These form my sole
diversion, because there I need neither think nor

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 237

talk ; I have only to look and to listen. Even
there I only go occasionally.

To the Duchesse de Castries, Paris.

Paris : October 5, 1831.

Madam, — Your letter was sent after me into
Touraine when I was no longer there ; and, as I
and my correspondence crossed each other on the
road, it only reached me very late, so that only
to-day have I been able to read your letter. Do
not accuse me, therefore, either of negligence or
foppery ; you load me with so many crimes that I
may well take up my defence against a charge
involving what would certainly be a crime — that of
acting discourteously towards a lady, even though
a stranger to me.

Allow me to have now the privilege of speak-
ing frankly, whilst replying to your frank attack,
and deign to accept my sincere thanks for the
subtle flattery of your complaints, since they show
that my writings have made a strong impression
on your mind. You have placed me under the
unfortunate necessity of speaking of myself, which
is an embarrassment, as I am addressing a woman
of whose age and position I am ignorant. 1

1 Balzac was entirely unacquainted with the name of his corre-
spondent. Balzac afterwards dedicated L'Illustre Gaudissart to
Madame de Castries.

238 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

The ' Physiologie du Mariage/ madam, was a
work undertaken for the purpose of defending the
cause of women. I knew that if, with the view of
inculcating ideas favourable to their emancipation
and to a broad and thorough system of education
for them, I had gone to work in a blundering way,
and betrayed my design at the outset, I should at
the best have been regarded as nothing more than
the author of a theory more or less plausible. I
was therefore obliged to clothe my ideas, to dis-
guise them under a new shape, in biting, incisive
words, that should lay hold on the mind of my
readers, awaken their attention, and leave behind
reflections upon which they might meditate.

Thus, then, any woman who has passed
through the storms of life would see that I at-
tribute the blame of all the faults committed by
the wives entirely to their husbands. It is, in
fact, a plenary absolution.

Besides this, I plead for the natural and in-
alienable rights of woman. A happy marriage is
impossible unless there be a perfect acquaintance
between the two before marriage — a knowledge
of each other's ways, habits, and character. And
I have not flinched from any of the consequences
involved in this principle.

Those who know me are aware that I have

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 239

been faithful to this opinion ever since I reached
the age of reason ; and in my eyes a young girl
who has committed a fault deserves more interest
than she who remaining ignorant lies open to the
misfortunes of the future. I am at this present
time a bachelor, and if I should marry later in
life it will only be to a widow.

Now you see, madam, that my first crime has
become transformed into a courageous endeavour,
which deserved to have some encouragement ; but,
like a soldier in the advanced guard of a system
which has yet to make its way, I have met the
fate of those who fall in leading the forlorn hope.

I have been wrongly judged, misunderstood ;
some have seen only the outward form, others have
seen nothing at all. After ' La Physiologie,' I
wrote ' Les Scènes de la Vie privée/ In this book,
full of moral and wise counsels, nothing is de-
stroyed, nothing is attacked ; I respect accepted
creeds, even those in which I have no faith. I am
simply an historian, a narrator, and virtue has never
been more reverenced than in these scenes. Now,
madam, one word about ' La Peau de Chagrin/
That work is not intended to stand alone; it
contains — excuse the pedantry of the term — the
premisses of a work which I shall feel proud to have
undertaken, even though I should fail in the at-

240 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

tempt ; and, since your kindliness towards me is so
great— xfor your solicitude has deeply touched me —
read the second edition, under the title of ' Romans
et Contes philosophiques.' I have made some
progress in my plan. One of the best writers l of
our time has condescended to lift the veil which
conceals my inner thoughts and future plans in an
Introduction. You will there see that if at times I
am destructive, I also endeavour to rebuild. ' Jésus-
Christ en Flandre/ 'L'Enfant maudit/ 'Etude
de Femme/ ' Les Proscrits/ ' Les deux Rêves/
will prove to you, perhaps, that I am not destitute
of faith, nor of conviction, nor of gentleness. I
plough my furrow conscientiously. I strive to be
the servant of my subject, and to accomplish my
task with courage and perseverance ; that is all.
' La Peau de Chagrin ' was meant to show forth
the present age — our lives, our egotism. The re-
production of these social types has been mis-
understood ; but I find, madam, my own consola-
tion for this in the sincere approbation conveyed
in criticisms like your own, given in friendship
and sincerity. Do not think that your letter, full
of the touching elegies natural to the female heart,
is to me a matter of indifference. These sym-
pathies, coming from afar, are a treasure ; they are

1 Philarète Chasles.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 24 Î

all the fortune I possess ; they are the purest plea-
sures I can taste. And perhaps the feelings you
have made me experience would have been even
stronger than they are, if, instead of taking up the
conventional picture in my book of the woman
celebrated for having never loved, you had given
your sympathy to her who consecrates the beauti-
ful devotedness of woman, her artless love and
the rich poetry of her heart.

Pauline is a real personage for me, only more
lovely than I could describe her. If I have made
her a dream, it is because I did not wish my secret
to be discovered.

Pardon me, madam, for seeking to re-estab-
lish myself in your good opinion, but you have
placed me in a false and unsuitable position ; you
have formed your idea of me from my books ;
and from what am I to judge of you ? All I
possess of yours is a letter — a criminal indict-
ment You have made yourself my judge, and I
could only reply by a justification in form. But,
whatever you may think of this letter, let me hope
that at some future time we may correspond about
a work which I trust will make those chords
vibrate in your soul which I have now left mute.
This would be a great triumph for me — the only
triumph to which I aspire — for you are mistaken if

vol. 1. R

242 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

you suppose me anything but a solitary man, who
lives in his own thoughts and ardently desiring
to be understood by women.

P.S. — Pressing work has not permitted me to
reply to you in a leisurely way. In reading over
my letter, I perceive that it might have been made
much better — that I ought to have said something
quite different. I ought to have thanked you for
the interest you express for me, which will remain
one of the most touching episodes of my literary
life ; but if I send this letter such as it is, it is
only to prove to you how little my real character,
in its natural want of all artifice, resembles the idea
which my works give of me to many people.

To Madame Laure Surville, Champrosay.

Sache : November 23, 1831.

My good Sister, — I send you a letter which
Madame Carraud has enclosed for you in mine,
which gives me the pleasure of writing to you also.
There are times when it makes one so happy to
take refuge in a heart which has been one's own
from infancy! I am already beginning to look
backwards. To-day I am depressed, without too
well knowing wherefore. I fancied that there must
have been something sympathetic in my depression,
and that some one of those I love was unhappy.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 243

I should like to be reassured on this point, and
to know how things are with you and yours. I
would like to hear whether my dear Surville is
successful, if you are all well in body and soul, and
whether you have had any news of Henry.

My mother has written me a little scrap of a
letter about nothing at all ; it was as short as a
letter of administration. As for me, I have not
the time to write as I would wish. If people only
knew what it is to give a permanent form to one's
ideas, to give them shape and colour, and what
lassitude it leaves behind — to be always thinking,
like La Fontaine under his tree ! If only the result
could be La Fontaine ! But no, it is only some
of Balzac ; will that ever be worth anything ?

How this doubt torments me on my dark
days ! — much more than my condition of a bird
hopping from branch to branch, I can assure you.
And is it not very melancholy, after so many very
heavy labours, to have earned as yet nothing for
the future — to have nothing but the future itself ?

Laura, what will that future be ?

Who can answer this question, so full of
anxiety ? My whole fortune up to this present
time consists in the possession of a few true and
devoted attachments, but the expressions of those
attachments are not all alike. If there are some

r 2

244 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

persons by whom I am never misunderstood,
there are others with whom I am less fortunate.
You belong to the first class, my dear, my most
dear, sister.

Note. — Balzac, in the midst of the pecuniary
difficulties and embarrassments by which he was
troubled from the very commencement of his
career, had at least the great happiness of find-
ing encouragements, counsels, and not unfrequently
inspirations, not % only in his noble sister, but
also from other women who possessed intel-
lect of a high order. Madame de Berny, who
stood foremost amongst these friends, was early
removed by death from the affectionate gratitude
of her young friend.

M. and Madame de Berny * lived at Villeparisis
when the De Balzac family resided there ; after-
wards they established themselves at St.-Firmin,
a small town in the Department of l'Oise.

To M. Urbain Cartel \ Publisher and Editor, Paris.

Sache : November 25, 1831.

My dear Canel, — I have already written to
Rabou about the two volumes, and to-day I am
sending off to him a tale belonging to the second

1 Madame Firmiani is dedicated to M. Alexandre de Berny.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 245

volume. But, my dear sir, send me at once —
immediately, a proof of the ' Dôme des Invalides/
In return for the said proof, you will receive ' Le
Départ * for your Carlist book ; but I only give this
on the express condition that it is placed the first
in the volume. So, on receipt of this letter, put
under a Post Office band the proof of the ' Dôme/

As to the gloves, for which I am endeavour-
ing to pay you by * Le Départ/ remit them for me
to the care of Madame de Berny, as in my house
everything is dessus dessous. They will be quite safe
there, because there are glove-boxes to put them
in; and these gloves are all the more precious
as they come from a publisher, under which
name there lies hidden for me that of a friend.

Rabou will tell you all about my distress, and
I will tell you no more than you will hear from
him, for you well know that, feeling as I do that
your purse is like my own, I only apply to you
because I cannot help myself.

The fact is, I am neglecting the ' Revue ' for
the ' Contes bruns/ l and that a few days hence my
rightful share in these volumes will be finished ;
and without vanity I may say I have endeavoured
to give you my best I wish the book to be a
great success.

1 An anonymous work, written in concert with Philarète Chasles
and Charles Rabou.

246 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Send me Barbier directly. He and Lamartine
are the only true poets of our epoch. Hugo has
only lucid intervals.

A thousand amiable speeches to the ' miss'
Go to the elegant Chasles, and give him my re-
membrances with, all that grace which is your
characteristic.

Adieu. I wish you all prosperity.

7!? Baron Gérard, Paris.

Paris : 1831.

I think, Monsieur, I have already sent you a
copy of ' La Peau de Chagrin ; ' but as the idea
upon which I am constructing my work is begin-
ning to develop itself, I do not wish you to have
the first row of bricks before I can give you the
second ; you would therefore do me a great favour
if you would put the preceding volumes on your
chimney-piece, so that they may be torn up or
burned page by page.

Present my hommages to Madame Gérard ;
and will you say to Mdlle. Godefroy, that I will
make an appointment with her for some day,
when we may recall together the memory of my
poor and much-loved father.

If I had known the other day that you were
disengaged, I should with great pleasure have

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC* 247

cheated you out of a lesson in good and instruc-
tive conversation ; for if I love you as much as
anyone else can love you, I admire you more
than all others put together can admire you.

To Madame la Duchesse de Castries, Paris.

Paris : February 28, 1832.

Deign to accept, madam, my affectionate
thanks and the expression of my profound grati-
tude for the mark of confidence you have been
pleased to bestow. 1

It is so rare to meet noble hearts and true
friendships; I especially am so destitute of in-
fluential friends on whom I may rely, that I accept
your gracious offer, although at the risk of losing
much by becoming personally known.

If I were not engaged in pressing work, I
should before now have presented my horn-
mages to you with that frankness of heart
which is so much prized by you ; but, after many
struggles and honourable misfortunes — misfor-
tunes of which one is proud— I have yet to
toil on a little longer before I can conquer a
few pleasant leisure hours, wherein I may be
neither a literary man nor an artist, but may be

1 Apparently the Duchess had revealed her name, in reply to the
letter Balzac had written to her as an unknown correspondent

248 MEMOIRS AND LKTTERS OF BALZAC.

myself \ and it would be these hours I would
desire to consecrate to you, if you permit it.

You are fortunate, madam, to be able to em-
bellish your solitude by poetry without labour;
my solitude is filled by labour without poetry. I
hope to become better in your society ; and I know
well that I can only be a gainer in the society
of a soul so noble and so richly endowed as your
own.

Soon then, madam, I trust to be allowed to
lay at your feet a homage as friendly as it is re-
spectful.

To Madame Emile de Girardin, Paris.

Paris : 1832.

My dear Pupil, — Do not make game of your
poor master, who knows nothing except by theory.
It is said, in I know not what droll story, that a
ton of melancholy is not worth an ounce of good
cheer. Well, the thousands of tons of pleasure
that we may gather in the fields of society will
not pay our bills at the end of the month. Ergo,
the master is a slave, and, as he has no expecta-
tions except from himself, the poor master must
work; and he is always in bed at six o'clock,
just at the moment when you are kindling into
life and lighting the wax candles in your elegant

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 249

Cage, which you brighten by the glitter of your
wit, where poetry flashes and lightens ; then half
an hour after midnight he rises to work for twelve
hours, while you are reposing after swaying lazily
to and fro on an ocean of bright pretty dreams.
Ecco !

Judge if it does not seem hard ; for, after all,
I have only one pupil. Nobody comes to con-
sole me, ' En la Cabane où le coton me couvre ; '
and when one sees nobody, when one hears
of nothing, the things we call glory and reputation
are only like beating the air. I am like a child
who has forgotten to put peas into his bladder for
the Carnival time, and finds it gives forth no sound
when he belabours the passers-by. I thank you,
therefore, much for your kind letter and your dear
thought of me.

A thousand gracious compliments to Madame
O'Donnell, my homage to Madame Gay, my
friendly regards to Emile, and to you a thousand
affectionate obeisances.

25O MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame la Duchesse d'Aôrantès, Versailles.

Paris : 1832.

Do not be angry with me, I entreat you. I
was so much over-fatigued with work, that I fell
down at the Opéra as I got out of the carriage.
Since my return I have begun to write again, and
I do not move from my table.

As soon as I have one moment's liberty I will
devote two to you, but all this week I am nailed
to my place by proofs. If I did right I ought
to write an article for the ' Revue ' for the two last
Sundays of the month ; a work for Mame ; and
the second dozen of the ' Drolatiques ; ' without
counting reprints. Is not that enough to keep
three or four men well employed ? Accept the
hommages, the affection, the thousand tendernesses,
of your devoted servant, who would gladly be
free in order to taste the world of goodness you
promise so graciously.

To M. le Baron Gérard, Paris.

Paris : 1832.

Sir, — I saw yesterday an artist whose fame
has not yet reached France, although he possesses
a great deal of talent ; I mean M. Gros-Claude,
of Geneva. He wishes, under the influence of

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 2$t

that fervour which your talent inspires, to show you
the pictures he is about to exhibit at the Musée.
I was bold enough to make free with your benevo-
lence, and he is to come and bring them to you
between twelve and one to-day, for the term rigor-
ously fixed for their reception expires to-môrrow.
He will ask nothing of you, beyond your opinion
and that of Mademoiselle Godefroy. He is a great
friend of Schnetz, and professes the same admira-
tion for you that we all have. 1

I intended to introduce him to you on Wed-
nesday, unless he should enjoy the more agreeable
chance of receiving at your hands those rights of
citizenship which you have the art of rendering so
precious by that grace and wit which, for my part,
1 envy every time I have the pleasure of passing
an evening in your society.

Vouchsafe to accept the homage of my sincere
admiration.

To M. Laurentie, Principal Editor of the
1 Rénovateur ' Paris.

Paris : 1832.

Dear Sir, — M. Peyronnet's article has so
scared me by its talent that I felt the necessity of
working up considerably my article on the oath ;

1 M. Gros-Claude exhibited in Paris on several occasions in
the early part of Louis Philippe's reign. His Buveurs was en-
graved, and obtained considerable popularity.

252 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

it will be equally opportune next week. The
Duke l will have made up his mind about being a
candidate, and we shall be better able to judge of
the article and its propriety in family conclave.
But I have done ' La Vie d'une Femme.' I beg
you will not put any signature ; it would be
ostentatious ; but mention it, if you will, in the
chronicle of events. The article was so illegibly
scrawled, that it is being recopied. It will be at
the printer's at half-past ten.
A thousand compliments.

To Madame Emile de Girardin, Paris.

Paris : May 1832.

For the last two days I have been cased in
flannel and wrapped in a dressing-gown, seeing that
I am ill. I was so already on Tuesday evening.
I have given myself that swelling in the face
you had on your hand. 2 I am in for three more
days of suffering and agony ; but it is not the cho-
lera, and no one can say, ' M. de Balzac has the
cholera ; we are going to lose him.' My malady
is an ignoble one — an abscess, which must run its
prescribed course.

A thousand thanks for your amiable remem-

1 The Duc de Fitzjames. The article was never written.

* Madame de Girardin had hurt her hand by a carriage accident

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 253

brance ; but I should have wished for a line from
your hand as to the state of your hand, for which
I am responsible. Devoted friendship to all your
belongings and to yourself.

To M. Chapelain, Physician, Paris.

Paris : May 1832.

Sir, — The power of somnambulism attracts
me. How is it you have not sought out some
very lucid somnambulist, and set her to grapple
with the causes of the epidemic ? l Science is
interested in the discovery. It would redound to
our eternal honour. If I had not been confined to
my bed for the last week, and still in a state which
forbids my going out, I, a theorist, would have
descended, or rather risen, to the honours of
practice, and sought for a somnambulist, and have
endeavoured to convince myself of the nonentity
or of the mighty power of our discovery, and so
ascertained whether it is limited or infinite.

Excuse me, sir, and pardon the curiosity which
has prompted this letter, attribute it to the
desire I feel to know whether we are deceiving
ourselves or not.

Accept, sir, my affectionate compliments.

1 The cholera.

254 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Emile de Girardin, Paris.

Paris : May 31, 1832.

We are both of us, madam, destined to know
what a tilbury can do. Not far from the spot
where you were so roughly treated, I came in
contact with the heroic paving-stones of July.
This head — this handsome head — in short, the
head vou know— has suffered in the most un-
happy manner, and I am by no means sure that
some screw or wheel has not been loosened in my
brain. Joking apart, I am in my bed I have
been copiously bled, for the first time in my life.
I have been ordered not to write, not even to
think — to remain perfectly quiet — and here is your
letter just come to awaken all the graceful and
mondaines ideas which always either precede or fol-
low you. You have recalled all the delights of idol-
worship, and even a debt which I ought to have
paid on the very evening of my tumble ; but, as I
hope not to die just yet, I shall have the happiness
of seeing you as soon as I can go out, and I regret
extremely not being able to attend the celebration
of this delightful anniversary, by coming to your
soirée, where, in spite of all you say, I should have
seen nothing except yourself.

A thousand affectionate respects.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 255

To Madame Zultna Carraud, Parts.

Paris : June 1, 1832.

Madam, — I delayed writing to you till I
could send you at the same time the ' Contes
drolatiques ' and the ' Scènes de la Vie privée,'
but meanwhile I tumbled out of a tilbury. I
escaped death as by a miracle. However, I am
in bed, bled, dieted, and under the severest pro-
hibition against writing, reading, or thinking. I
have seen our good, and great, and beloved
Captain Périollas. I am afraid he will frighten
you ; and I write secretly to you, very sorry not
to have answered you when I was in the country,
busy finishing my work.

The egotism of the author killed for the
moment the egotism of friendship.

Yet your letter moved me to tears. I should
like to answer you on all points. I will do so, at
the risk of increasing the pain I suffer ; for my
head went on the pavement of July with a pretty
hard knock, and for twenty minutes I could not
bring my thoughts together.

As to politics, be quite sure that I guide
myself by a severe and high probity, and, in spite
of the anathema pronounced by M. Carraud against
all journalists, believe me I shall neither write nor

256 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

act, except by conviction. My political life and
creed cannot be appreciated in a moment If I
ever count for anything in the government of the
country, it is later that I must be judged. I fear
nothing. I care more for the esteem of a few
persons, amongst whom you are one of the first,
both in friendship and in high intellect— one of the
noblest souls I have ever known — than I can care
for the esteem of the masses, for whom I have,
in truth, a profound contempt There are some
vocations which must be obeyed, and something
drags me irresistibly towards glory and power. It
is not a happy life. There is in me a worship of
woman, and a need of loving, which have never
been completely satisfied. Despairing of ever being
loved and understood as I desire, by the woman I
have dreamt of (never having met her, except
under one form — that of the heart), I have thrown
myself into the tempestuous region of political
passions and into the stormy and parching atmo-
sphere of literary glory.

It is possible I may fail in both ; but be assured
that if I have desired to live the life of the present
century, instead of passing on happy and obscure,
it is only because pure and moderate happiness
has failed me. When one has a whole fortune
to make, it is best to try to make it great and

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 257

illustrious ; for, other things being equal, it is better
to suffer in a high sphere than in a low one, and I
prefer the thrusts of a poniard to the pricks of a
pin. Otherwise, you are quite right in all you say.
If ever I should find a wife and a fortune, I could
resign myself very easily to domestic happiness ;
but where are these things to be found ? Where
is the family which would have faith in a literary
fortune ? It would drive me mad to owe my
fortune to a woman, unless I loved her, or to owe
it to flatteries ; I am obliged, therefore, to remain
isolated.

In the midst of this desert be assured that
friendships such as yours, and the assurance of
finding a shelter in a loving heart, are the best
consolations I can have. Your letter has been
very precious to me. It has been exactly the
refreshment needed by my wearied and anxious
soul, which is rather irritated than tender. My
strongest desire is still for a life in the country ;
but it must be with good neighbours and a happy
home. In whatever country this is to be found,
there would I go to meet it ; and I would do no
more v/ork in literature, except as an amateur,
for the sake of occupation and not to be idle — as
if one ever could be idle where there are trees to
look at and to plant !

vol. 1. S

258 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To dedicate myself to the happiness of a
woman is my constant dream, but I do not believe
marriage and love can exist in poverty.

You will not forget to remember me to every-
body, and you will divine all I ought to say. My
head and my hand are both fatigued. My mother
is beside me, and counts every line.

Find here a thousand tender regards from
your wholly devoted.

To Madame Emile de Girardin^ Paris.

Paris: 1832.

Imagine me, handsome as I am, cruelly dis.
figured for eight days past ; and it has seemed
very odd to be more ugly than I am by nature.
I only got out yesterday, but you will guess to
whom the first visit was paid. To-day or to-
morrow I shall have the happiness to thank you
for all the gracious friendly things you have
written to me, and to see you again.

I have suffered horribly, and now I must
make up for lost time. I must work for those
wretched horses of mine, which I cannot teach
to live on poetry. What a grand use that would
be for poetry! Ah, a dozen alexandrine lines
instead of a feed of oats ! Such a discovery
would beat the steam-engine.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 259

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Sache : June 10, 1832.

My dear Mother, — I am safely landed, but
horribly tired. Passengers were asked to show
their passports wherever there were gendarmes. 1
To-day I am rested. However, I still feel some
of my bruises, principally in the left arm ; there
are certain movements I find it impossible to
make. But, any rate, I am here, having well got
over my fatigue. Two days were barely sufficient.
My papers are put in order ; to-morrow, I begin
to work. You will send the letter here annexed
by Paradis. 2 And now mark well all the follow-
ing instructions :

1. First of all, copy for me the article headed
4 L'Épicier ' in the volume of the ' Silhouette/
which you will find on the second shelf where
the quartos are, near the door of my room.

2. You must send me your copy of the
1 Contes bruns/ As what I have written there
will be reprinted in the 'Causeries,' 8 you can't
set much value on what Chasles and Rabou have
written. However, you need only tear out of

1 This was after the insurrections of June 5 and 6, 1832.

9 A servant

3 This alludes to a book— Causeries du Soir— which never
appeared. Le Médecin de Campagne is dedicated to Madame de
Balzac.

S 2

2ÔO MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

your copy the ' Conversation * entre Onze Heures
et Minuit ' and ' Le Grand d'Espagne/ Madame
de Berny will let you have some marked-out
corrections, and perhaps a volume of the ' Chouans/
with the corrections to it. Make them all up into
a parcel> and send them to me at once, with what
I am going to tell you about.

You will take a copy of vols. iii. and iv. of
the ' Scènes de la Vie privée/ and you will write
outside, ' Presented by the Author to M. de
Manne ; * then you will go to M. de Manne, and
you will tell him that I have had a fall, and cannot
go out. (Make yourself lovely.) And this is
what you are to ask him. Mark this well :

You will look first into the large ' Biographie
universelle' for the Life of Bernard Palissy,
which is under B or P (you had better even send
me the volume containing it) ; you will read that
article and take a note of all the books quoted,
whether by Palissy himself or written by others
about him. Take this note — which must be very
exact — to M. de Manne, and ask him to let you
have these books for me.

Go and read likewise the notice of Bernard
Palissy in papa's ' Biographie/ which is at Laura's,

1 Le Grand d'Espagne is now inserted in La Muse du Départe-
ment, and La Conversation entre Onze Heures et Minuit forms
part of Œuvres Diverses.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 2ÔI

and ascertain if there are not works quoted there
which may not be in mine. Take a note of
these, that you may ask M. de Manne for them
likewise.

If M. de Manne should not have them all,
and provided they are not too dear, you will have
to buy them. You might see Gosselin, and tell
him that six days after the receipt of these books,
which I shall look for with impatience, he will
have the manuscript needed to finish the fourth
volume of the ' Contes philosophiques/ I require
them to write a grand and beautiful work com-
pleting the volume, in which the only thing not
previously published ought necessarily to be very
remarkable in its kind. 1

My horses must, and I mean that they shall
(tell this to Leclercq), each go out every day for
half an hour.

I have three hundred pages of manuscript
to do — to think them, to write them — for ' La
Bataille ; ' I have a hundred pages to add to the
' Conversations/ which, at the rate of ten pages
a day, is three months' work, and at the rate of
twenty, forty-five days ; and it is physically impos-
sible to write more than twenty, and thus I only

1 This was meant to be La Recherche de ? Absolu. That work,
however, never came out till 1834 ; Louis Lambert terminated the
volume instead.

26 2 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

ask for forty days ; and during those forty days
I shall have Gosselin s proofs to correct also.

I only write once a week to Madame de Cas-
tries and to Madame de Berny ; and then only a
few words. All I can do is, to give you a letter
for M. Pichot.

It was precisely to avoid all affairs, and
all interruptions, that I came here and am
going to Angoulême. You can hardly imagine
how much of my time writing a business letter
swallows up. To say a week is hardly too much.
Madame de Berny when at St.-Firmin saw
what head work meant. It took me ten days to
invent and think over ' Les Célibataires.' l To
bear with all the vexations of my professional
work, and those caused by money difficulties as
well, is enough to make one quit the world.

I see no one at Tours.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Sache : June 1832.

My dear, beloved Mother, — Your news about
Henry fills me with joy. M. de Margonne knows
nothing yet. I will tell him when he comes back
from town this evening.

1 This alludes to the first story in Les Célibataires—' Le Curé de
Tours.'

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 263

Good boy ; he has thought of you, and I envy
him the happiness to be the first to make you
happier. This has caused me a cruel regret for
the course I have chosen, as it has not enabled me
to do my duty towards you. Poor mother ! this
is an event which will give us both courage.

On Wednesday I shall take to the coach office
the MS. of the tale which Gosselin has yet to re-
ceive ; this is as much as to tell you that I am at
work day and night, for the MS. will be at least
sixty folios, and very tired I am of writing.

1 1 was imperative that I should give a triumph-
ant refutation to the people who say I am mad.

To Madame Zulma Carraud> Angoulême.

Sache : July 2, 1832.

Dear Friend, — Your letter found me in
Touraine, where I have taken refuge to finish
the three works required before I can begin my
travels. I am only sixty leagues from you ; is it
not a temptation to me ? If the work were not
already begun, to which a drop of coffee on this
page bears witness, I should be already at the
Poudrerie ; but for the moment I must be con-
tented to answer you, for amongst all my letters
yours has been read first. Would you believe it ?

264 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

fame is conveyed to me through the post office
by means of letters, and I daily receive three or
four from women. They come from the depths of
Russia, of Germany, &c. ; I have not had one from
England. Then there are many letters from young
people. It has become fatiguing. With what de-
light I open the letter of an old, true, and known
friend !

Thanks a thousand times, from the depths of
my soul, for your precious friendship. Your letter
came at the moment of a little spleen, which was
caused by the sad prospect of a probable over-
throw of the little fortune that I have gained by
the strokes of my pen. Decidedly we must wait
for peace before we attempt our enterprise. 1 .

If you knew how I work ! I am a galley slave
to pen and ink, a true dealer in ideas. I am just
now finishing the fourth volume of the ' Contes
philosophiques : ' I have only a few pages to write.
' Les Chouans ' is being reprinted, and it has
to be corrected. I am preparing, besides, a large
work called ' La Bataille/ and then I have to
finish a book in two volumes octavo — ' Conversa-
tions entre Onze Heures et Minuit/ It is a great
pleasure to me to find you like the fourth volume
of the * Scènes de la Vie privée' ; ' for I value that 4

1 This enterprise consisted in editing his own works himself.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 265

volume. I could not write it now; it requires
youth and observation.

A thousand kind things to M. Carraud. As
for you, there is no need of grand words ; you
understand all that a friendly heart offers
you.

I never think of you but to find some sweet
remembrance. Ah! if it had only been the
Pyrenees, I should have been able to see you ;
but it is necessary that I go and climb about
at Aix, in Savoy, to run after some one who,
perhaps, will laugh at me — one of those aristocra-
tic women of whom you no doubt have a horror ;
one of those angelic beauties to whom one ascribes
a soul ; a true duchess, very disdainful, very
loving, subtle, witty ; a coquette, like nothing I
ever yet have seen, and who says she loves me,
who wants to keep me in a palace at Venice (for
I tell you everything), and who desires I should
write nothing, except for her ; one of those women
who must be worshipped on one's knees when
they wish it, and whom one has such pleasure
in conquering ; a woman to be dreamt of, jealous
of everything. Ah ! it would be much better to
be in Angoulême at the Poudrerie — very sensible
and quiet, listening to the rolling of the mills,
learning from you how to pocket a billiard ball,

266 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

to laugh and to talk . . . than thus to lose one's
time and one's life !

Adieu. Think that there is a soul in me, and
that the soul likes to think of you.

I am here for a fortnight ; and, if I can, if you
are at the Poudrerie — if — if — I will certainly try !

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Sache : July 28, 1832.

My dear, beloved Mother, — I have the two
parcels ; but the first only arrived on the 26th,
and the second will be to-day at Azay ; I am
sending for it while writing you this letter, to
calm the apprehensions my two preceding letters
may have occasioned. Madame D is ex-
pected daily. You will understand that this takes
up a good deal of my time, for I must smooth
the ways. Therefore I cannot roam the fields
or work as much as I would.

M. Dumont requires an entire day of me. I
sent him back the documents by post, and this
has retarded Gosselin : instead of sending his
packet to the coach office to-day, I can hardly do
so before Saturday ; I have thirty pages to do
yet. This letter- writing kills me. I have to write
tp two people at the same time ; besides which, I
have other letters to write.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 267

There is one thing, however, I should like to
be certain about, as it would make such a great
alteration in my position and modify all my plans.
Work is impeded by this uncertainty ; for as she x
is expected from day to day, I go three times a
week to Méré. Now, it is impossible to reconcile
this state of things with work. Nevertheless,
Gosselin having been satisfied — and he shall be
so this week — I shall quickly polish off 'La
Bataille/ unless the battle of love begins before ;
but even then I shall give you the funds to honour
the August bill, and you will give him the bill I
now send you. This is what is called a renewal.

I start on Monday for Angoulême. Send your
answer there. * For the next forty days I shall
neither write to nor answer anyone, except your-
self. Send my letters, however, in the parcels
containing proofs.

State exactly the points on which you require
an answer, that I may have the less to write, for
I shall be overwhelmed with work. In my eager-
ness to get ourselves out of difficulty I shall do
impossibilities. If by good fortune I am able to
work as well as I did the last two days I was
at St.-Firmin, / shall save ourselves. To carry

1 This evidently refers to some matrimonial project.

268 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

us on till then it will be necessary to raise a loan,
to be repaid on September i or 15.

Farewell, my beloved mother. I embrace you
with all my heart, like a poor unhappy child who
yearns sadly to press his mother to his bosom.
Farewell. Your illness made me very anxious, and
you give me not one detail about yourself \ it is
you who should write.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Angoulême : July 19, 1832.

My dear Mother, — Surely you must have
received a letter from me touching all that you
ask in yours of the 16th, which I have received
to-day. I explained why I wrote no more ; I
shall not go over this explanation again. What
you say about my silence is one of those things
which, to use your expression, makes me grasp my
heart with both hands ; for it is incredible I should
be able to produce all I do (I am obeying the
most rigorous necessity) ; so if I am to write I
ought to have more time, and when I rest, I wish to
lay down and not to take up my pen again. Really,
my poor dear mother, this ought to be understood
between us, once for all ; otherwise, I shall have to
renounce all epistolary intercourse.

What am I to answer you about the corn-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 269

dealer ? I am working night and day to make
money to pay him. I have stated — the chances of
illness apart — at what date the ' Conversations entre
Onze Heures et Minuit ' and ' La Bataille ' will be
finished ; after these two books I shall do ' Les
Trois Cardinaux/ These three works, with one
volume of • Contes drolatiques/ and one volume
of ' Contes philosophiques/ will amply suffice to
meet everything.

Seeing that I shall have no money till forty
days are past, I can do nothing before that time ;
this is my answer to everyone, for, unless I sell
everything for a song and leave myself as naked as
John the Baptist, I see no other way of raising
money.

The lady with the manuscript is an adventurer ;
you may answer, that I have no time to devote to
the works of others. As a general rule, why
do you not meet everything with a reference to my
absence and my return ? Now, my good mother, let
me tell you that I arrived here the day before
yesterday in the evening. I rested all yesterday,
because the journey and the heat had fatigued me
horribly, the more so as I had travelled the dis-
tance from Sache to Tours on foot at midday.
And this morning I was about to make the first
dash at my work, when your letter came and com-

27O MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

pletely upset me. Do you think it is possible to
have artistic inspirations after being brought sud-
denly face to face with such a picture of my
miseries as you have traced ? Do you think that
if I did not feel them, I should work as I do ?

I have told you, with tears in my eyes and
oppression at my heart, that it was impossible my
manuscript should be ready before August io,
and on the 10th we shall have eighteen hundred
francs. See if you cannot arrange everything in
Paris till that time. If I can get no money, well,
I must let them sue me, and pay the law costs. It
will be paying rather high interest You see all
resolves itself at last into hard work, and hard

work into tranquillity.

If Gosselin should take it into his head not to

send me proofs, ce serait du joli ! Why, it would
be the ruin of my reputation. I would tear up
all our agreements in the face of the world.
The work I have sent him has cost me thirty
days' and fifteen nights' labour, and I must
have at least two proofs. I await them with
impatience.

I rise at six in the evening ; I correct ' Les
Chouans ; ' then I work at ' La Bataille ' from eight
till four in the morning, and during the day I cor-
rect what I have written in the night This

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 27 1

is my life. Do you know any one more busily
occupied ?

Farewell, my good mother. Try and achieve
impossibilities, which is what I am doing on my
side. My life is one perpetual miracle. I em-
brace you with all my heart — and with deep sorrow,
for I am making you as miserable as myself.

To Madame Emile de Girardin, Paris.

Angoulême : July 29, 1832.

Will you allow me to entrust you with a
secret ? Being at a distance, may I make both
question and answer, and shall I be presuming
beyond the fact if I write you down good-natured,
ingenious, and obliging ?

First, do not say where I am, nor who is writing
to you, nor what I am going to have the imperti-
nence, the overweening audacity, to ask you. If
you refuse, let it be with one of the prettiest noes
you ever pronounced, and still keep my secret.

I have finished a book called ' Etudes de
Femmes/ I must have a preface written by a
woman. Will you do it for me ?

If you deem me worthy of a few penfuls of ink,
if you will consent to blacken your finger- tips, if
— if — it is a case for a thousand i/s. Write me
one little word. I write to you from Angoulême,

2/2 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

whither I have come to have my hair cut, and until
August 20 your gracious answer, whatever it may
announce, will find me here. Then, if you grant
my prayer, I will send you a few words touching
that same preface, which would constitute nine
hundred and ninety-nine parts in a thousand of
the success of my book, and my greatest sorrow
will be that I can never render you a similar
service.

Did it occur to you that I was thinking of
you and Emile when the wax candles were
scintillating ? When your ears buzzed, when you
were gay, did you think I was near you in spirit ?
No ; you would all have quizzed me very likely
— that is, if you classed me with the folks who have
short memories, and God knows if I have a short
one ! Do you know that it is impossible when
one is en province not to turn ones mental gaze
towards that drawing-room of yours, where all is
wit and wisdom, where praise must pay a penalty
to sarcasm, and yet we still come back to be made
dupes, because all there is charming, and we pre-
fer enchanting illusions to truths which are bitter.
At least I am so constituted — ready to be run
away with by a word like Astolfo on his
hippogriff.

You will not forget to remember me to all who

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 273

have a title to my remembrances, and you will
express for me all that I ought to think.

Answer me sincerely, and if it be yes, let me
practise all the encroachments of friendship ; for
you, Delphine divine, — as that poor dear madman
Gérard used to say, — and Emile, can never doubt
the sincerity of the sentiments of your affectionate

H. de B.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Angoulême: July 29, 1832.

My tiny mother, as Laura says, I have
received to-day the parcel of proofs ; but do
explain to Gosselin, that I must have all that has
been set up in type, the entire work, before my eyes,
in order to correct it ; for it is not of the ordinary
routine, like other works of the kind. Surely M.
Crapelet has enough type to let Gosselin have at
his disposal a hundred and twenty, or a hundred
and forty, miserable pages, which is the length of
this ' Notice/ *

As for me, if I correct slip by slip I shall lose a
fortnight over the work, whereas if I have the whole
before me, and correct it at one stretch, it would
only take me three days; and my hours are
so precious that everything must bend to the

1 The first edition of Louis Lambert, which is the work here re-
ferred to, appeared under the title of Notice biographique sur Louis
Lambert.

VOL. I. T

274 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

necessity of economising time. Explain this
thoroughly to Gosselin aforesaid.

Now, dear mother, I am going to surprise you
by the despatch within a very short time of a parcet
of manuscript, as the tradespeople say, wherewith
you can raise a hundred louis. Necessity inspired
me for a whole week, and I seized opportunity
and inspiration by the forelock. Mame will have
the task of arranging all this. At the same time
and place, I will tell you how, for the thing
referred to consists of three articles, which will
come out, without committing me, in three papers,
and they will make a book for Mame.

Farewell, I throw myself into your arms and
embrace you with effusion. Pay everything in the
way you mention ; I on my side will make money
strenuously, and we will balance at the end of a
given time receipts against expenses.

The corrections of ' Les Chouans ' are jogging
on ; I have a volume ready.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Sache: July 1832.

My dear Mother, — Here are all the particulars
I can give you, and for which you asked me.

Since I arrived here I have been constantly
employed over Gosselin's work ; for I feel that to

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 275

make myself a name, I must be always doing
better and better ; and, not having received in good
time my materials for the two tales which were
easy, I have undertaken one which was beyond
my powers ; but at last it is finished in manuscript,
and I have only the proofs to work at. However,
up to the present the work in question, * The
Memoir of Dumont,' my correspondence and my
visit have absorbed my whole time.

As to Madame D . She wrote me a few

polite words to thank me for the ' Scènes.' Clara
told me the last thing, that she would not come
to Touraine till the month of October ; so I shall
go to Angoulême, not to be six months with M.
de Margonne. I am going to finish ' La Bataille '
straight off ; and as I have but little to do to finish
the ' Conversations entre Onze Heures et Minuit/
all will be ready in time, and I shall return to
Touraine in the month of October.

But my dear mother, I am in a state of con-
tinual vexation and apprehension. I cannot send
M. Dieulouard * any manuscript until August i ;
what am I to do ? Neither my imagination nor
my courage are at fault, but there is no time.
This year I shall have published eight volumes
octavo. I can issue no more, even though I

1 The manager of La Revue de Paris,

T 2

276 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

should have something else ; accordingly I have,
much against the grain, and with the view to
extricate myself at one stroke, made up my mind
to write two or three pieces for the theatre ! No
greater misfortune could befall me ; but necessity
is the stronger of the two, and I cannot otherwise
retrieve my position. I shall see if I cannot make
use of some one, so as not to compromise my
name.

But whether I succeed with the lady in question
or no, it is impossible that the affair should
come off in time to serve my interests. The more
we go on the less likely is the success of the book-
business. I leave you the mistress to make any
sacrifices you may deem necessary. If you can
sell the horses, sell them ; if you wish even to get
rid of Leclercq, pay him and send him away. I
shall travel till I have set myself up again. Those
two papers quarrelling with me, egged on by the
petty intrigues of my enemies, was what upset
everything. I was in great distress about it
for a week ! I should want at least six weeks
of perfect tranquillity, to remit to you the four
thousand eight hundred francs I am to have for
the two works I am going to write. If you cannot
find the means to secure this, write me word. I
am resolved to turn everything into money, and

t

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 277

begin again from a fresh start. It would be
absurd, for, barring these six months of pressure, I
have never been in a fairer position. Sooner or
later, literature, politics, journalism, a marriage
or some grand speculation will make my fortune.
We must suffer a little longer ; would I were the
only one to suffer ! During the last four years I
have a score of times been tempted to expatriate
myself. But you are now in a suffering state,
and are forced by necessity to become one of the
causes of my secret heart-aches. I have loaded
you with nearly all my troubles, besides your
own, and this is torture to me.

You ask me to write to you in full detail ; but,
my dear mother, have you yet to be told what my
existence is ? When I am able to write, I work
at my manuscripts ; when I am not working at
my manuscripts, I am thinking of them ; I never
have any rest. How is it my friends are not
aware of this ? I shall end by stopping my ears
against all remonstrance, knowing in my conscience
that I am not to blame. And now I will, as suc-
cinctly as possible, put down in writing what are
the things most necessary to be done.

Go, if you possibly can, and find M. Pichot, to
obtain his consent for our going together to see
Mame ; for what can I write to him ? What ! my

278 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

poor mother, you ask me to write five letters, all
of them polite civilities and instructions, to five
judges ! Why, what in the world could I do ? I
had better go at once and throw myself into the
Indre !

You will have seen that our ideas coincided
as to the tilbury and the horse and Leclercq.
As to the last mentioned, you might send him
here, for I am like one of the family.

Farewell. I must return to my work, in order
to complete my tour de force. I embrace you
with all my heart.

Of course, if you can get the price I said for
the horse, sell him. In any case you must keep
all that appertains, to the harness, &c, and sell the
horse as he stands.

The numbers of ' L'Artiste ' containing ' La
Transaction ' are still of much use to me.

Farewell.

To Madame de Balzac.

Angoulême : July 30, 1832.

My dear beloved Mother, — As soon as this
letter reaches you, look in my library on the lower
shelf among the duodecimos for ' Le Jeune Irlan-
dais/ and send it me by the diligence. Make
them despatch it immediately, for I want it very

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 279

urgently. Don't forget a little money (I owe thirty
francs already), nor the locatelli lamp : it is meant
as a surprise for Madame Carraud.

Heavens! how Gosselin irritates me! He
doesn't know how much time he makes me lose
by not sending me the whole of ' Lambert ' set up
at once. Does he not see that I am in a vein
of work, and likely to perform miracles ? Now
I can answer for my ' Notice,' it will make the
sale in one day of thousands of copies of ' Les
Contes philosophiques/

Farewell, little mother. I shall not stay here
longer than August 20. Matters have been ar-
ranged at Aix, so that I can go and stay there
incognito.

1 have till October 1 before I return to Sache,
since milady does not return till then. By that
time I shall have added mightily to my reputation
— you will see how much !

Farewell. I have not time to say more.
Win my lawsuits ! A thousand caresses from my
heart Your much loving Son.

To Madame de Balzac.

Angoulême : 1 August 1832.

My dear Mother, — I cannot write to you
to-day in detail. It is eleven o'clock at night ; I

280 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

am extremely ill from overwork ; and if I had not
feared to alarm you, I should have made Madame
Carraud write to you ; but what I have to say is
most confidential.

I have worked for a hundred and sixty hours
at Gosselin's book. I beg you, my dear, well-
beloved mother, to take it to him yourself, and
make him write to assure me that I shall have a
fresh proof of it at Lyons poste restante.

Look yourself that the proof be on white paper,
and that it be all in pages.

Impress upon him from me that the least costly
and most expeditious way will be to have all set
up afresh and put into pages immediately.

My good mother, my reputation and future
career are involved in this ; look to it, that I shall
not have risked bringing on an illness for abso-
lutely nothing at all. I must have this proof, and
an assurance that I shall have it. Lastly, send me
back by the Messageries Royales, bureau restant
Lyons, the fresh copy I am sending to Gosselin ;
and take care that this manuscript be despatched
simultaneously with the proofs by post, so that if
any words have been omitted, I may look them out
in my. manuscript.

This is all I have to say on the Gosselin busi-
ness. Now to other matters.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 28 1

You will send the two letters enclosed to their
destination. You will not let Buloz know anything.
If he should come, tell him to come and see you
on Friday August 1 7 at four o'clock. On that
day you will receive, bureau restant, a parcel, con-
taining the manuscript for the ' Revue des Deux
Mondes/ and the terms. In that parcel will be a
letter, wherein I answer in detail all your questions.
I hope to be better, and to explain all. Now in
sending the letter to M. Pichot (Rue du Gros
Chenet), you will send word to him by Paradis
en grand tenue, that you have received some
manuscripts from me, and that you beg him to
call on Thursday at a certain hour, or at any time
during the day, as you may please, You would
do well to receive him at my place, if he comes.

Now if he does come, this is what you will tell
him in succinct terms :

That the ' Revue de Paris ' must engage to
pay me two hundred francs per sheet, without
deductions for blanks. That I must be printed
in pica.

And that in his letter he must tell me that so
long as he manages the ' Revue,' nothing dis-
agreeable shall be said of me therein ; lastly, that
if I please, I may reprint my articles as books ;
I only intend the ' Revue ' to have the right

282 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

of the first publication; that is to say, that the
articles supplied by me shall not re-appear in any
other paper.

If he agree to all this, you will hand him the
manuscript, impressing it upon him that he must
have the whole set up at once and send me the
proof on white paper with the manuscript, so that
the whole should reach me at Lyons bureau
restant on August 2 1 .

If M. Pichot should refuse, you will say:
' Then let the matter drop/ You will receive by
the Buloz parcel further particulars as to my
journey, the money to be sent me, &c.

Pardon my curtness, beloved mother ; for two
consecutive nights I have sat up, and I must rise
at three to-morrow, to carry this parcel from La
Poudrerie to Angoulême, in order to make sure
of its going.

You will receive the books from Saint Cyr by
another despatch ; I am having the maps copied,
which will cost me a good sum.

Farewell, I embrace you from my heart
Never was I so exhausted, and you will never
know what an effort it has been to write to you.
I embrace you with all my heart, my well be-
loved.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 283

To Madame Laure Surville, Paris.

Angoulême : August 1832.

My dear and well beloved Laura, — I have
just received your few words, and despite my
fatigue, I cannot possibly help writing to you.
You have moved me to tears by what you say of
my poor mother. I dare not write to her, for
yesterday I answered her somewhat shortly, and
I never shall be able to express all I feel for her.

Thanks, dear sister ; the devotedness of loving
hearts does one so much good! You have re-
stored to me that energy, which until now has
enabled me to conquer the difficulties of my life !
Yes ! you are right, I will not stop, I will go on,
I shall reach my object, and some day you will
see me counted amongst the great intellects of my
country !

But what efforts are needed to attain this !
They break down the body, and when weariness
comes, discouragement follows ! This ' Notice
biographique sur Louis Lambert ' is a work . in
which I wished to measure my strength with
Goethe and Byron, with ' Faust ' and ' Manfred,'
and it is a tournament that is not yet finished.
I have not yet corrected the proofs.

I do not know whether I shall succeed, but

284 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

this fourth volume of the ' Contes philosophiques '
ought to be a final answer to my enemies, and
ought to foretell an incontestable superiority.

Thus the poor artist should be forgiven his
weariness, his discouragement, and above all his
momentary forgetfulness of all things foreign to
his subject. ' Louis Lambert ' has cost me so
much labour ! What numbers of books I have been
obliged to read and to read again before I could
write this work! It will, perhaps, one of these
days, turn science into new roads. If I had
made it a purely learned work, it might have
attracted the attention of thinkers, who as it
is, will not condescend to look at it. But if by
chance it should find its way into their hands,
they may speak of it — perhaps ! . . .

I believe * Louis Lambert ' to be a grand
work ! Why speak again of its conclusion ? You
know what made me select it ? You are always
timid. This conclusion is probable, and there are
melancholy instances which prove, alas ! too surely
th^t it is so. Does not the doctor say, that
great intellects which are too much worked are
always on the brink of madness ?

I hope soon to have finished * La Bataille ' and
' Les Conversations/ The money I shall receive
for them ought to be sufficient for all that is

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 285

needed. After this enormous labour, I shall make
a journey on foot. It will be necessary for my
health. Then, instead of resting, I shall begin the
1 Les Trois Cardinaux/ which will be interspersed
with petits contes drolatiques. It is all I shall be
able to do between now and winter ; and this winter,
if my position does not improve, I have decided
to try the theatre, anything to relieve my mother
from her present anxieties. I will sacrifice for her
all my political prospects ; but do not tell her any-
thing about this. Again, thanks for your letter,
and forgive the poor artist the discouragement
which called it forth. The game is begun, and I
play such high stakes ! I must go on. My books
are the only answer I shall ever deign to make
to those who are beginning to attack me.

Yes ; you are right, my progress is real, and
my infernal courage will some day be rewarded.
Persuade my mother to believe in this, my dear
sister ; tell her to bestow on me the charity of her
patience ; she will reap the recompense of all her
devotion ! Some day, I hope, a little glory will
repay her for all ! Poor mother ! the same imagi-
nation with that she has endowed me keeps her
from ever knowing repose ! Do not I also know
this ? Tell my mother that I love her, as I did
when a child. Tears overcome me whilst writ-

286 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

ing these lines, tears of tenderness and despair,
for I feel what the future will be, and I want this
devoted mother to be present on the day of
triumph ! When shall I reach it ? Take care
of our mother, Laura, both now and ever. As
for you and your husband, never doubt my feel-
ings ; if I cannot write to you, let your tenderness
be indulgent, never accuse my silence ; say to your-
selves : ' He thinks of us, he talks to us/ Under-
stand me, good friends, you, my oldest and ever-
enduring affections !

After my long meditations, and heavy work,
I rest myself in your hearts, as in a sweet spot
where nothing can come to harm me ! Some day,
when my works are developed, you will under-
stand how many hours were needful before I
could have thought or written so many things ;
you will then absolve me from all that has dis-
pleased you, and you will pardon, not the egotism
of the man (for the man has none), but the egotism
of the thinker and worker.

Adieu, my good sister. I have given you the
time to-day which I intended to dedicate to a letter
to Madame de Castries. She can do without it.
You will tell mamma, that though I have not
written to her, there is in this letter the tenderest
outpouring of the heart for her; say many

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 287

friendly and kindly things to your husband,
from me, his brother-in-heart ; and I thank you
much for telling me how his affairs are going
on.

I embrace you, dear consoler, who brings me
hope. Your letter has revived me ; after read-
ing it, I shouted, and cried, ' Forward, soldier !
throw thyself into the fight ! '

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Angoulême : August 21, 1832.

My good Mother, — I have just received your
letter, and thank you much, my darling, for I was
very anxious — I thought you ill.

I am off to-morrow the 22 nd for Lyons,
but I shall not arrive until the 25th. I shall
borrow a hundred and fifty francs of M. Carraud,
which you will send back to him by the Messa-
geries, as they want no money paid for them in
Paris. A letter of advice is not needed, the thing
is all settled.

Simultaneously with my departure, beloved
mother, I will despatch to your address a packet,
containing the acceptances, a letter, the books
for Saint Cyr to be returned to M. Villemejane,
librarian, as coming from M. Périollas ; together

288 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

with the manuscript for Buloz of the ' Revue des
Deux Mondes/ with my terms.

I have worked a good deal ; I shall have by
next January three volumes in octavo for Mame.
I have completely changed my mind as to what
I wrote to him. I have thrown together into a
collected form the ' Études de Femmes/ the 'Con-
versations, &c./ forming three original volumes,
which I intend for him ; but ' La Bataille ' must
appear before everything else.

Copying the maps, twenty francs ; passport,
ten francs ; I owed fifteen francs for discount
here ; then there were bouquets for birthdays,
fifteen francs, and ten francs lost at cards : total,
seventy francs. I had left fifteen francs owing
on my fare. So that, with postage of letters, I
have spent the hundred francs you sent me.

The hundred and fifty francs I am now borrow-
ing will hardly take me to Lyons. However, if
the three hundred francs I shall get at Lyons will
not carry me on far, with all my economy, we
must communicate again. As soon as I arrive at
Aix, I shall write.

On the 25 th I shall be at Lyons, where I shall
stay at least two days.

Fancy passing by Clermont, and not being able
to ramble about the country — eh !

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 289

I shall come back laden with work ; and then
we shall pay our debts, and our enemies will
wax lean with vexation. Once more, my mother,
let me entreat you to look well that my Lyons
proofs be on white paper, and that I have two
sets, and that the whole of the manuscripts be
sent back to me, even those of the first proofs of
' Lambert/

You tell me nothing about Pichot ?

As to Buloz, I will let you know through what
channel the proofs can be sent to me at Aix. I
have still another article ready jbr each ' Revue,'
and famous ones !

Farewell ! I shall write again this evening
with the packet; but as I had to advise you of
the despatch of the aforesaid packet, I was bound
to have a chat with the mother. A good kiss on
your eyelids, darling mother, and farewell.

* Lambert ' is a fine thing, and will make a
sensation. I am waiting with impatience to be at
Lyons to give a last curl with the comb to this
great work, which has nearly been the death of
me.

Your tenderly loving Son.

vol. 1. U

290 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Angoulême : Tuesday, noon,

August 22, 1832.

I am off to Lyons ; time presses, for we are
here at La Poudrerie, and the coach starts at two
o'clock ; so, darling mother, I must be brief.

I entreat you to keep a most exact account
of the sum of ten thousand francs, and to care-
fully note every item of expenditure, even the
most trifling. And on the opposite page you
must open an account of each successive sum
that I shall send you, specifying its source.
Remark : No credit given to the newspapers ;
once the article is received, send for the money
and the account. I will send you my authority
to receive for each paper.

Touching the ' Revue des Deux Mondes ' : You
will request M. Buloz to call at my house (let
it always be at my house) ; you will show him the
manuscript, but do not let him take it away, because
you are only my agent and ignorant of the usual
practice. Be excessively polite. You will tell
him that I desire a letter from him, pledging him-
self to allow nothing that could offend me to be
inserted in the review of which he is manager»
whether directly or indirectly.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 2ÇI

That he give a quittance for all antecedent deal-
ings, clearing all accounts up to September i, 1833,
between me and the ' Revue.'

That I am to be printed in the largest type.

Next, that I am to be paid two hundred francs
per sheet without deduction for blanks.

On these terms, all being written and agreed,
give him ' Les Orphelins.' l

Buloz will get a fine article written on the
1 Scènes/ and on the fourth volume of ' Les Contes
philosophiques.'

Next, as a favour, he must insert the enclosed
piece of poetry sent me from Martinique, and
written by one of my best friends, and he will say
that he has it through me.

If the ' Revue de Paris ' and the ' Revue des
Deux Mondes ' are friendly to me, I will do them
good service, and I have learned in the provinces
how great is the influence of my name.

I will let Buloz know from Aix through what
channel he is to forward the proofs.

Answer me in detail on all these points.

I embrace you from my heart ; and if I have
forgotten anything, I will write to you from Lyons.
I sat up all night finishing ' Le Maudit,' 2 an article

1 Now entitled La Grenadilre.
' This work never appeared.

U 2

2Ç2 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

for Buloz. I hope to send you, the ist of October,
by a private hand, the entire manuscript of * La
Bataille ' and * Les Chouans/ corrected for Mame.
Between this and then I intend to remain quiet.

A good kiss to the well-beloved mother.
Take care of yourself and drill Paradis for me.

Farewell.

If you do not come to terms with Buloz, keep
the MS. : I will tell you later what to do with it.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Lyons : August 25, 1832.

My dear worshipped mother, — I arrived at
Lyons this morning, and this evening I am off
to take the waters.

The journey from Angoulême here is per-
formed at the rate of one league an hour. We
sleep on the road ; consequently, I have been four
days travelling ; but what an admirable journey !
and what a pity it would have been to hurry
through it.

France has been on the point of losing a very
great man in my person. I had chosen the
impériale for my place. It so befel that at
Thiers, in Puy de Dôme, my foot slipped on
the top step, and the iron edge has made a little
hole in the bone of my right leg. As I am obliged

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 293

to keep quite still, with my leg stretched out, I
prefer being at Aix, where I shall be better cared
for than among strangers. If this ' bobo ' * will
come to anything I know not, at present it is
nothing ; the wound closed on the road. I have
only a swelled leg and a difficulty in walking.
Do not be anxious ; if it were serious, I would
tell you, as my name is Honoré.

I will write to you about Pichot when I get to
Aix. I have only had time to read over the ten
sheets from Gosselin, correct them, and send them
back by the diligence of the Messageries Notre
Dame des Victoires. But within three days from
this, the article for the ' Revue de Paris ' will be
on its way, and will reach you four days after
receipt of this. Let Éverat or Pichot know.

You can keep 4 Les Orphelins' for the ' Revue
de Paris.' Buloz shall have nothing. You will
receive further instructions with my packet of
proofs, in which there will be a letter for you.

You did well to sell ' Smogler ' and the cabri-
olet Mind you put the money carefully by, with
this label on it : ' Remount of horses and car-
riages.' This will make you laugh.

Have the tilbury laid up in Jiocchi, and let it
be well wrapped round, wheels and all.

1 A nursery word for a hurt

294 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

I have work finished for the next four months,
so that, according to the contracts we are going to
sign, there will be an income of two thousand francs
for us ; then ' La Bataille,' the new ' Contes drola-
tiques/ and the four volumes for Mame will make
a good deal of money, and that will not be all :
so do not let us despair.

Intreat Crapelet's foreman to revise carefully
the corrections for Gosselin ; he will receive,
directed to him, before ten days are over, the
corrected copy he asks for. I left it at Sache, and
I am writing to M. de Margonne to despatch it.
The master of Sache is exact; therefore set
Gosselin s mind at ease. But Gosselin has not
sent me the first sheets of the ' Bons propos des
Religieuses de Poissy/ l whereof I am in urgent
need, as likewise of those numbers of ' L'Artiste '
I have already asked you for.

Farewell, good mother, until to-morrow, when
I will write you from Aix, but the letter will be
inside the parcel of proofs for the ' Revue.'

A good kiss, mother.

' Lambert' is completely corrected. I am still
pleased with it M. Chambellant will turn pale
at it, and so will all the Swedenborgians. The

1 This tale forms part of the second dizain of the Contes dro-
latiques.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 295

parcel containing the proofs of ' Lambert ' is ad-
dressed to you ; go quickly to the diligence
office for it.

If you have the tilbury new lined with cloth,
let the colour be maroon.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Aix : Saturday, August 27, 1832.

My kind and excellent Mother, — After writing
to you in such haste, I felt my inmost heart melt
as I read your letter again, and I worshipped you.
How shall I return you, when shall I return you,
and can I ever return you, by my love and endea-
vours for your happiness, all that you have done
for me ? I can at present only express my
deep thankfulness. This journey which you have
enabled me to make was very necessary ; I was
in such absolute need of some relaxation. ' Louis
Lambert ' had left me overwhelmed with fatigue.
I had sate up many nights, and taken coffee to
such an excess that I had brought on pains in
the stomach amounting almost to cramp. ' Louis
Lambert ' is perhaps a chef-d'œuvre, but it has cost
me dearly ; six weeks of unrelenting toil at Sache
and ten days at Angoulême. This time I think
certain friends of mine may perhaps begin to
rate me as a man of some account

296 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart for
all the trouble you take to save me from the
practical annoyances of life. My ever-increasing
affection . is not feeling which words express.
Toil so obstinate may perhaps be crowned by
fortune ; I am the more encouraged to hope, as
looking round, I see few talents unrewarded. As
to fame, I am beginning not altogether to despair
of that either.

My darling mother, how can I comfort you
otherwise than as I comfort myself — with dreams !
A young man came four leagues on purpose
to see me when he heard I was at La Poudrerie,
and the people of the Cercle Constitutionnel (Con-
stitutional Club) have told me that, if I had a
mind to be a Deputy, they would elect me, not-
withstanding my aristocratic opinions.

' Is this genuine ? ' or did they mock me ? I
cannot tell, but it raises my hope. The point now,
is to go on making further exertions, and not to
let my courage fail.

I have been better for the last week, and have
recovered those intervals of inspiration which had
abandoned me since my fall. Coffee had ceased to
produce any effect. I am now in a glorious vein ;
and I hope to do a great deal of work here, where
I am so quiet.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 2(

I shall probably make a pedestrian tour in
Switzerland, after I have published ' La Bataille '
and ' Les Conversations.' Go then and see Gos-
selin, that he may hurry the printer. I am
devoured with eagerness to publish the fourth
volume of the ' Contes philosophiques.' Take
care of your health, my mother ; you must live,
that I may acquit myself of my debt towards you.
Oh ! how I should embrace you if you were here !
How deep is my gratitude towards the kind hearts
who pluck some of the thorns from my life and
smooth my path by their affection. But con-
strained to an unceasing warfare against destiny,
I have not always leisure to give utterance to
what I feel. I would not, however, allow a day
to pass without letting you know the tenderness
your late proofs of devotion excite in me. A
mother suffers the pangs of labour more than once
with her children, does she not, my mother ?
Poor mothers, are you ever enough beloved !
When shall I be a genius, like Byron or Goethe ?
When shall I reach the tribune (of the Chamber
of Deputies) ? that I may then give you pleasure
equal to the tortures I now inflict on you. I
embrace and press you to my heart with joy ;
divine all that I have left unwritten.

298 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC,

To Madame de Balzac.

Aix : Saturday, Sept 1, 1832.

My dear well-beloved Mother, — Do not be
anxious about my leg ; two or three baths I took
here have checked the suppuration, and a scar is
forming, which I treat with respect No further
fear : two or three days more, and I shall walk.

The diligence conductors were all very atten-
tive, and no further mischance occurred during
the journey to aggravate the harm done. My
leg was kept straight all the time.

Now let us proceed to business in due order.

I found Auguste Sannegou here, to whom
I owe eleven hundred francs. This is the
money that Madame Wilmen, the actress of the
Vaudeville his mistress, came and asked me for,
and I would not pay to her, because I did not
know whether Auguste was still with her. Now,
it seems my friend has lost a great deal of money
at Aix, and knowing he was here I wrote to
him to this effect : ' Will you have your money
here or in Paris ? I did not give it to Adeline/
He was delighted to get it. Therefore, my dar-
ling, you must send me as soon as possible eleven
hundred francs, which I will hand over to Sanne-

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 299

gou, and two hundred francs more, which I shall
keep for myself, because I have only two hundred
left, and I cannot have less than four hundred
francs in my pocket in a foreign place, in case of
any accident. Then I shall go to Geneva, to the
Chartreuse, &c.

Have the inclosed letter conveyed to Adeline ;
she might get up tales about me at the Vaudeville,
and this will shut her mouth. If she has left
the Rue St.- Honoré, they will know her address
at the Vaudeville. So that matter is settled.

Send me my money by the diligence of the
Messageries Royales.

' Revue de Paris/ I have sent my proofs back
to Éverat direct by the post ; however bulky
the packet, it will not cost more than by diligence,
and one avoids the Custom-house. There is a
letter inside for M. Pichot, which letter contains
a rectification of the agreement you will sign with
him. I am going to give you the clauses of it,
and you will show them to Dumont or to Labois ;
for my head is so full of ideas that I may
have omitted something. When the agreement
is signed, you will hand over ' Les Orphelins ' to
M. Pichot. This will make the contribution for
October; and perhaps I may send seven or
eight pages more, besides 'Les Amours d'une

300 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Laide/ * which will do for November, when I send
the proofs of the ' Orphelins/

And now you will impress on M. Pichot that
the ' Revue ' must allow me to take back without
dispute ' Maître Cornelius/ which is in the fourth
volume of the ' Contes philosophiques/ and my
reckoning with the ' Revue ' must be regarded as
amply paid off by ' Madame Firmiani ' and ' La
Femme de Trente Ans ' ; I am not even sure if
they are not, strictly speaking, in my debt some
three hundred francs. When the agreement is
signed, you will send the enclosed to Buloz, who
may claim some money from you : if so, you will
pay him what he asks, that is, upon a settlement
of account.

' Contes philosophiques/ — When the fourth
volume is published by Gosselin, send me two
copies out here. Place them each in a wrapper,
one directed to me, and the other to Madame
la Duchesse de Castries ; you will then send off
both volumes in the same envelope to M. Lom-
bard, banker, Geneva. My darling mother, be
sure to send these directly there are any copies
ready.

You will then ask for ten more copies ; one
for yourself, first of all, and the others to be

1 This work was never published.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 301

distributed, as follows, accompanied by small
notes :

1. To Madame de Berny.

2. To Madame Delannoy.

3. To Madame Carraud (by coach),

4. To M. de Margonne (ditto).

5. To M. Nacquart.

6. To M. Emile de Girardin.

7. To Madame Sophie Gay.

8. To Madame d'Abrantès.

9. To Surville.

And request Gosselin to send one from me to
Philarète Chasles, who has written the Preface,
and one to M. Mame.

Lastly, one to M. Jules Sandeau (Quai St-
Michel 26), with an intimation that in my absence
I have charged you to send it to him that he might
present it to the rightful claimant. A pretty
little room had been retained for me here, where
I remain in solitude up to six in the evening ; it
costs me two francs a day. I have my meals
sent in from a neighbouring restaurant: in the
morning an egg and a cup of milk ; this breakfast
costs me fifteen sous ; dinner to match.

Then at six I go downstairs to the apartment
of the Duchess, and spend the evening there till
eleven o'clock.

302 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

I work in this way twelve hours in the early
part of the day. I have begun ' La Bataille/ and
shall go on without stopping, so that I may be able
to send you the manuscript from the 25 th to the
30th of the month.

Madame de Castries is full of the most ami-
able attentions towards me. My only relaxation
is my little soirée in her company. I have to
work so hard, I cannot afford to see any one.
When I have finished ' La Bataille/ I shall go to
Geneva, and to the Grande Chartreuse.

You see my way of life is simple enough and
not expensive. I carried away with me on June 5
one hundred and twenty francs ; you sent me a
hundred in the first instance, then three hundred
more, and I borrowed a hundred and fifty of
M. Carraud : total, six hundred and seventy francs
for three months ; and this includes coach fare,
hotel expenses, and servants largely fee'd. What
say you, mother ? — though I am somewhat of a
poet and a dreamer, you must own I am mighty
economical.

My four hundred francs will carry me on till
about mid-October, because I intend to make
some excursions.

Farewell, my kind mother, I embrace you with
all my heart, and go back to work. Yet I don't

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 303

know, perhaps I may take a rest to-day. I made
all the corrections in ' La Femme abandonnée '
in two days.

You see that I am doing what you wish for the
1 Revue de Paris/ I will hold out my hand to M.
Pichot, and will forget everything. I have made
up my accounts : on February 1 5 you will have
received the ten thousand francs. In my very
next letter I will explain in what way. You tell
me nothing about my lawsuits ; are they lost ?
Mother, a kiss from the heart of your Honoré.

Keep Paradis, together with the cook ; but
break them into their work, polishing the floors,
and, above all, doing up my room in superior
fashion. This will be a long affair ; but if he is
honest, I wish to attach him to me.

Have you sold the cabriolet and the horse
without harness ? You tell me nothing of all this.
Farewell, my kind mother !

I find that, as I have time and space, I can

give you the account now.

Francs
From September to February, six months

of the ' Revue de Paris ' . . . 3,000

' La Bataille ' 2,000

A volume of ' Drolatiques ' . . . 2,000

The four new volumes for Mame . . 5,000

There you have 12,000

And I shall have, moreover, in hand ' Le

304 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Marquis de Carabas ' * and a volume of ' Contes
philosophiques/ So, my good mother, as I intend
doing all this during my travels, I shall come back
to Paris straight and clear for the moment, and
then we shall see. Keep carefully apart, not
mixing it up with any other account, the money for
the horse and cabriolet. Farewell once more, my
darling mother ; you may inform M. Dieulouard
that shortly I shall send him the manuscript.
The ' Revue de Paris ' will announce the work. I
press you in my arms, and kiss you on the lids of
those dear eyes that watch and wake for my sake.

Make Gosselin send me the commencement
of the ' Religieuses de Poissy.' I write these
* Contes drolatiques ' as a relief, and I have done
three already ; I am pleased with them.

Look well after everything at my place ; send
away whom you like, make any saving you deem
possible.

To Madame Zalma Carraud, Angoulême.

Aix : September, 1832.

I have arrived at Aix, but not without accident.
At Thiers I had a narrow escape. Climbing up to
the impériale just as I had let go the leathern
straps by which you hoist yourself up, the horses

1 It never appeared.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 305

started off at a gallop, and I fell ; but in the act of
falling, I seized hold of a strap again, and remained
suspended. The blow I inflicted on the coach,
by reason of those eight kilogrammes duly ascer-
tained to be my weight, was a violent one, and the
edge of one of the iron steps laid open my tibia.
Trowsers, boot and blouse, all were cut through.
I did not get my wound dressed till we reached
Lyons ; it is not healed yet, but the cicatrix
formed, after taking four baths. I can walk ; and,
thanks to the care of the diligence conductors, who
always made a bed for me on their impériales, I
shall be well in a couple of days. I have already
been able to get as far as the Lake of Bourget,
in a carriage.

I am talking about myself in all simplicity. I
have had a magnificent journey, with which I am
well satisfied. The valleys of Limousin are still
predominant in my memory, even after those of
Auvergne. But the plain of the Limagne, con-
trasted with the valley of Boyat, is sublime. The
weather was fine. I saw the country under every
favourable condition. Then, too, by the greatest
chance at Limoges, I fell in with a travelling com-
panion, who turned out eminently gay and witty,
and a good soul. It was a little bit of good luck.
He comes from Limoges, and his name is Dejean.

vol. 1. X

306 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

I have come here to seek at once both much and
little. Much because I see daily a person full of
grace and amiability, litde because she is never
likely to love me. Why did you send me to Aix ?

At Lyons, I subjected ' Lambert ' to further
correction. Like a bear, I licked my cub. I have
made more cuts ; and I have added something
you have not seen, I mean the last thoughts of
Lambert. On the whole, I am satisfied ; it is a
work instinct with profound melancholy, and with
science. Indeed, I do deserve to have a mistress,
and every day increases my sorrow at not pos-
sessing one, because love is my life, my being.

You see I am writing to you, notwithstanding
your prohibition, but perhaps I shall see you again
soon. ' La Bataille ' is begun. 1

M. Berges must have received his book. If
the ' Angoumoisins ' will have me for a Deputy, I
don't mind having them for my constituents. 2

The post only goes out three times a week,
from Aix. I have a small simply furnished room,
from which I survey the entire valley. I rise re-
morselessly at five in the morning, and work, sitting
at my window, till half-past five in the evening.

1 This book, the full title of which was meant to be La Bataille
tfAusterlitz, though so frequently mentioned, never appeared.

2 This gentleman was to have been one of the supporters of his
candidateship.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 307

My breakfast is brought to me from the club ; one
egg. Madame de Castries has some good coffee
made for me. At six we dine together, and I
spend the evening in her company. She is the
most refined type of womanhood : Madame de
Beauséant improved upon ; but are not all these
lovely manners acquired at the cost of the soul
within ?

If Mademoiselle Marinettissima is still with
you, kiss her on the neck for me, her champion.
You will not fail to remember me to the high
and mighty Lord Borget, nor to my lady. I
bear so far a resemblance to Madame Raison,
that I suffer from my tibia. This is self-
flattery. Recall me to the recollection of that
excellent Latinist, M. Raison. I shall say nothing
of the good Commandant ; there is always at the
end of my letter a good grip of the hand for him.
As for you, I leave you to guess at all that I do
not insert ; but you will allow me to kiss from
afar your pretty hand, so soft, so smooth, and in
the touch of which there is inspiration.

Do you then wish to bring me to confusion ?
Madame Nivet, of whom I had time to catch a
glimpse, has spoken to me about the vases.

I will be revenged !

The Angoulême coach arrives at Limoges in

x 2

308 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

the morning at six, and the Lyons conveyance- at
ten. Your nephew showed me the city ; and I
breakfasted with your sister and her husband.
Your sister is a great invalid ; there is a fatal tint
about her complexion. I can easily believe her
health to be in a precarious state.

In my headlong way, I was nearly forgetting
to tell you of this incident which to you must be
doubly interesting.

Re-adieu ! In my absence, you will receive
my ' Lambert.' Had I been in Paris, I might
have sent one to your neighbours ; but it is not
an easy matter. Moreover, I should have had
to give them the four volumes, and my publisher
gave me notice at Lyons of the approaching ex-
haustion of the edition. When the next appears,
I shall have it- more in my power to testify my
acknowledgment of their gracious acts. You
know all that is felt towards you here ; but not
quite all.

To Madame Laure Surville, at Paris.

Aix : September 15, 1832.

One line of remembrance to you, my dear
sister. In the midst of my travels I have seen
lovely places ; perhaps I shall see some still more

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 309

beautiful ; I wish you to know that they cannot
make me forget you.

From my room I see the whole valley of Aix ;
in the horizon are hills, the high mountain of the
Dent-du-Chat, and the delicious Lake du Bourget ;
but in the midst of all these enchantments one
must do one's work. My mother will have told
you, that I have to furnish forty pages a month
to the ' Revue de Paris.'

Dear sister, here I am between thirty and
forty years old, that is to say, in the prime of my
strength ; I ought now to write all my best things,
which should form the crown of my labours. I
shall see whether I can obtain on my return the
tranquillity which is necessary before I dare
attempt these great works.

No doubt my mother has told you, that I was
nearly killed under the wheels of a diligence ; I
escaped with a lacerated leg, but baths and rest
are curing it. I was able yesterday to drive to
the lake.

I am at the gates of Italy, and I fear to give
way to the temptation of passing through them.
The journey would not be costly ; I could make
it with the Fitzjames family, who would be
exceedingly agreeable; they are all perfect to
me. I should travel in their carriage : and, all

3IO MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC,

expenses calculated, it would cost a thousand
francs to go from Geneva to Rome. My fourth
of the expense would thus be two hundred and
fifty francs. At Rome I should want five hundred
francs ; then I should pass the winter at Naples ;
but, in order not to touch the receipts at Paris, and
to leave them all for interest, I will write the
' Médecin de Campagne ' for Marne, and this book
will pay for all. I shall never again have such an
opportunity. The Duke knows Italy, and will
save me all loss of time ; ignorant persons spend
much time in going to see useless things. I shall
work all the time. At Naples I should have the
Embassy, and the couriers of M. Rothschild, whose
acquaintance I have made here, and who would
give me introductions to his brother ; the proofs
would go on as usual, and the work also.

Talk about this project with my mother, and
write me full details about yourselves. A grasp of
the hand to the ferocious republican.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Aix : Saturday, September 22, 1832.

My dear Mother, — The agreement with
Ricourt * is only for one year, and the year will be

1 Manager of L Artiste.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 3II

out ih three or four months, leaving it unfulfilled.
Ricourt has not behaved well to me. I am quite
willing to leave ' La Transaction ' to its fate, and it
will be easy to replace it by something else, until I
regain my ownership of that production, for which at
present I have not been paid. As to M. Dieulouard,
pray send him the enclosed letter, without any word
from yourself, and forward me his reply by the
very next post By thé time he has answered,
€ La Bataille ' will be finished : but there is no
mortal power which will get it out of my port-
folio, unless M. Dieulouard pays the price for it in
full ; and no one in the world will persuade me to
shrink from the action at law which it will be open
to him to bring. I am furious at being thus tor-
mented about a work so long, so laborious and
so difficult, by a man like this, much more than I
was by that rough bear Gosselin about ' La Peau
de Chagrin.' Accordingly, I have made up my
mind to the course I am communicating to you,
and which I intend to follow out with that per-
severance and firmness of will which you must by
this time recognise in me. I will allow no one in
the world to claim anything whatsoever from me*
In Paris I should be lured away, my mind diverted ;
therefore, I shall not return till I have fulfilled all

312 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

my engagements of whatsoever nature they may
be.

Early in October ' La Bataille,' will be finished ;
and, saving what M. Dieulouard may determine,
this matter will be at an end.

There remains but little to be done to the
second dizain of the ' Contes drolatiques.' I
shall then immediately set about ' Le Marquis de
Carabas ; ' and whilst I am doing this, as there will
be intervals in composing the work, I shall give
Mame two volumes in octavo, and perhaps three,
to keep him patient till he gets € Les Trois
Cardinaux ; ' then I shall give Gosselin a historical
romance. So that, when I return to Paris, no
publisher can ask me for anything, except Mame,
for whom I shall write ' Les Trois Cardinaux,'
but I must be in Paris for that. Thus the five
hundred francs a month from the ' Revue,' and
the money for the works I shall have written, will
repay my loan and clear my travelling expenses,
which I am reducing to the simplest form. If I
am to remain away from Paris, I prefer Italy
before all other places, my electioneering interests
at Angoulême can very well be followed up by
correspondence. I shall not be hampered with
my proofs, and by returning the proof of * Les
Orphelins ' corrected, the ' Revue ' will have the

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 313

article for November ready corrected, also the
manuscript for December ; thus I shall be well
beforehand.

In order to give Marne all my works, I should
have to break off with Gosselin, and Gosselin little
knows what he will lose, if he should behave badly
to me. The future edition of the ' Contes philoso-
phiques* is neither given nor promised to him.
He is entitled only to one edition of the ' Marquis
de Carabas ' and to one edition of the historical
romance, and I shall stipulate that the first editions
are to be of one thousand only ; so that, at the
end of the year, I shall re-enter into possession of
every one of mine that he has published. And
Mame will inherit all. As a matter of course,
before my departure I shall send him the copy
for the ' Chouans ' ; he will have it in time for
October 15, and it can be printed quickly, as
there will be no need of proofs. I hope before
the middle of 1833 to be able to let him have an
entire edition to bring out, and he certainly shall
lose nothing by having waited.

By that time my article in the ' Revue ' will
have increased my reputation, and I shall re-
fresh the • Scènes de la Vie privée/ as well as
the 4 Contes philosophiques,' with some additions.

3 H MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Then the ' Trois Cardinaux ' will appear. I
shall thus have a goodly array of works.

I have a piece of bad news to communicate.
Yesterday the wound in my leg re-opened, it
is enlarged and I have had to consult the
official doctor of the springs. He told me there
was no danger ; but he ordered me fifteen days
of absolute rest, and he is going to set about
closing the wound ; he fears, however, the bone
may have been injured, and that splinters will
have to be expelled. In three days he will
know whether the bone has been depressed ; I
shall be able to give you news of this cursed
wound by the next post He certainly declared
there was nothing to fear ; but meanwhile it has
lasted a month already, and prevented me from
stirring. It is true I committed an imprudence in
climbing up the Mount du Chat.

I have worked a great deal, especially in plans
for books during the last week.

Farewell, my good, well-beloved mother! I
embrace you with all my soul. Oh! if you but
knew how I yearn at this moment to throw myself
upon your bosom, as into an asylum of undivided
affection, you would put a few loving words into
your letters, for the one I am now answering
contains not even one poor kiss. There is

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 31 5

nothing in it, except . Ah ! mother, mother,

this is cruel.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Aix : Sunday, September 23, 1832.

My dear mother, my well-beloved mother. —
My journey to Italy is decided upon. You will
ask me how I am going to travel. Then, I must
tell you, little mother, that I only gave Sannegou
six hundred francs ; he does not mind my putting
off till the next time we meet paying the five
hundred francs which remain ; he is a man with a
soul above this wretched trifle of a debt or the
postponement of it I was the first to proclaim
my debt, he cannot say that I ran away from it.

Calculating everything fairly, this money will
take me to Rome. I travel as fourth passenger
in Madame de Castries' vetturino ; and the bar-
gain — which includes everything, food, carriages,
hotels — is a thousand francs for all of us to go
from Geneva to Rome; making my share two
hundred and fifty francs.

In Rome I shall want five hundred francs and
the same in Naples. / do not ask you for them.
By working for three d^ys and three nights sue-
cessively, I have written a volume in i8mo. en-
titled ' Le Médecin de Campagne/ A traveller is

3l6 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

taking it to Mame. As there are only 200 pages
in i8mo., he can get it all set up in type, and I
can give the order to go to press before my
departure for Italy, which will not be before
October 10. He will remit me five hundred
francs to Rome, and five hundred to Naples. I
shall give him my instructions.

I shall only have to ask you towards the
month of March for five hundred francs, with
which to come back from Naples ; and it is
even possible I may earn this by some sort of
work by that time. There is another matter.
If there should be a general election, the Royalists
will stand for the colleges, this is now decided.
In that case M. le Duc de Fitzjames will, in all
likelihood, be elected in at least two districts. If
I am not elected at Angoulême, M. de Fitzjames
will use his interest to get me elected for the
place he declines.

I shall make this splendid journey with the
Duke, who will treat me as if I were his son. I
also shall be in relation with the best society;
I am not likely to meet with such an opportunity
again. M. de Fitzjames has been in Italy before,
he knows the country, and will spare me all loss
of time. Besides this, his name will throw open
many doors to me. The Duchess and he are

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. $ l 7

both more than kind to me, in every way, and the
advantages of their society are great

My expenses during the journey will not
much exceed what they would be in Paris ; so
that, my darling mother, I shall have had a
splendid journey, I shall have seen Italy, and the
works of art, the fêtes, the theatres, kept my

work well going on, and no interest will have
suffered by it. The necessary intervals of repose
will be taken on the road, and at each place of
sojourn I shall work for ten days. Farewell, the
courier is impatient, and I have yet to write
to Madame Delannoy and to Madame Carraud
about what should be done in case of my election.
My leg is dressed with some of your mother's
ointment, and I am in less pain. I am waiting till
to-morrow to see if any splinters appear, and will
write to you the day after, which is post day. A
thousand kisses and tender thoughts.

To Madame Zvlma Carraud.

Aix : September 23, 1832.

Thanks from the bottom of my heart for your
letter, so friendly and so affectionate, in spite of all
your scoldings. I am writing to you, leaving my
work for your sake with pleasure. On October
10, I shall set out for Italy, a temptation beyond

3l8 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

my power to resist Have no fears, ' La Bataille '
will come out, and something better than ' La
Bataille/ a book after your own heart, ' Le Mé-
decin de Campagne/

Reassure yourself about the ' Revue de Paris/
The editor and the paper have done all I could
humanly expect They will repair all ; they
make me a fixed allowance of five hundred francs
for one article a month.

I am much pleased with you, because you tell
me all you think, though I cannot agree with
your observations about my political character,
about the man of power. My opinions are
formed, my convictions are made at an age when
a man is able to judge of his country, of her
laws, and her manners. I have not joined my
party blindly ; I have been influenced by no
personal consideration, this I can swear to
you, to whom I would never say what is false,
for with you I speak as from heart to heart
Thus I may not, I cannot, alter my political
character, nor my opinions. My plan of govern-
ment, my ideas are sound and just, at least I
believe so. They are much more compatible
with yours than you think. Only I take what I
consider a surer road to arrive at a good result
You only see a portion of the existing interests,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 319

things, persons, manners. I believe I see all, and
combine all for a prosperous political power. I
will never sell myself. I shall always be true to
my professions, noble and generous in my actions.
The abolition of all nobility outside the Chamber
of Peers ; the separation of the clergy from Rome ;
the natural frontiers of France ; perfect equality in
the middle classes ; the recognition of all genuine
superiority ; economy in the public expenditure ;
augmentation of the revenues, through a better
knowledge of the principles of taxation ; education
for all : these are the principal points of my poli-
tical creed, to which you will find me faithful.
Between my words and my deeds there will
always be coherence.

As to the means, I am the best judge of them.
I submit to every form of calumny ; I am prepared
for everything, because a day will come when I
shall find voices to support me. I desire public
authority to be strong. You may not approve or
you may not understand my ideas, my means of
action ; but you will always esteem and love me,
because I know that I am not to be corrupted by
money, nor by woman, nor by a decoration, nor
by power, because I want it to be thorough. I
see always my whole life before me, and I rate
my own self-respect higher than all other things.

320 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

This said, do not seek to haggle with me further
over my opinions. The general plan of them is fixed.
As to the details of my life, or any ameliorations
in the methods of execution, your friendship will
always have a sovereign voice, respectfully listened
to and with delight. I speak to you as from heart
to heart, because I know you will respect the secret
of my political ideas ; they are of a kind to expose
me to the hatred of my party, were they known.
But it would be impossible to insure the triumph
of these ideas without the co-operation, without
the conviction, of the numbers. I do not deceive
my party. I believe that its existence is bound up
in the recognition, without any arrière-pensée, of the
things required by the nature of the ideas of the
present time. I may tell you that if M. Berges
has not been misled by the friendship he expressed
for me, in the event of an election, I shall present
myself at Angoulême ; and I would even return
to La Poudrerie from whatever part of Italy I
might be in, were I told by you that I have any
chance of success. I shall have the support of
the two papers belonging to my party, who have
at last come to an agreement to return Royalists
to the next elections. I shall address either to
you or to M. Berges the different political writings
I may draw up for the arrondissement Will you

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 32 1

recommend my little work in i8mo.— ' Le Médicin
de Campagne/ It will gain me friends. It is a
piece of writing calculated to do good, and worthy
to compete for the Monthyon prize.

Pardon me, dear, for my pleasantries about
the money for my writings ; they shocked you,
but they were mere childishness, like many things
I say and do. Do you think that money could
repay me for my toil, my health ! No— no ! I set
above all else the pleasure of causing a heart like
yours to beat with a quicker pulse ; and though my
imagination as an artist may sometimes carry me
away, be assured that I always return with love
for what is beautiful and true.

You were both wrong and right to send me
here : wrong, because I was perfectly happy with
you ; right, because travelling enlarges one's ideas.
I say to myself, that a life like mine ought not to
be dependent on the society of any woman ; that
I ought to follow my destiny in a large broad way,
and look a little higher than a woman's girdle.
Whatever you may say, I shall ever be faithful
to the friendly hands that have welcomed me to
La Poudrerie, although I may have compared them
to the satin softness of Chinese paper. If M.
Carraud loves me ever so little, he will store up
for my benefit his ideas on certain improvements,

vol. 1. Y

322 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

and I will proclaim them to the world by embody-
ing them in my system. If you are still well dis-
posed towards me, you will spare me neither
counsels, nor scoldings, nor reproaches. From
you all is taken in good kind. You would love
me much more than you do, did you know how
much I think of you, in all matters. I went to
La Grande Chartreuse, and several of my exclama-
tions were addressed to you. From Italy you
will receive every month the tribute of my remem-
brances. In Italy — if I go there ! for I hardly
yet believe in my journey — give me often a place
in your thoughts, as I give you in mine. Your
pure and disinterested affection is one of my
greatest consolations.

The brilliant and happy day you wish for me
dawns not yet, and I am still a prey to the same
griefs ; and they are at times very poignant
Excessive labour alone enables me to bear them.
For a month past the wound in my leg has been
again open ; nor does it look as though it meant
soon to close. The doctor at the springs believes
that the bone is injured, slightly depressed on the
ridge of the tibia, and that certain small splinters
must be thrown out. It will take a fortnight more
to heal ; but he assures me there is no danger. I
am pinned down here till October 6. Therefore,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 323

if you have anything to write to me, you can send
your letter from Angoulême up to the ist,
reckoning six days for delivery.

You were mistaken in imagining I wished to
write for twenty minds only. I was speaking
of certain things, and not of everything.

Horses, carriages (the tilbury excepted), all
have been sold, and the servants discharged. My
expenses in Paris are limited now to my rent,
interest on money amounting to eighty-nine francs
a quarter, and a cook for my mother.

You see, I shall not spend more than three
hundred francs a month. I am going to capitalise,
to pay off the loan raised by my mother. There
is prudence !

How completely you misjudge me in believ-
ing that I should not be able to give myself en-
tirely to the affection which you describe as manly,
and in condemning me to the society of the woman
whom you imagine to be here, and whom you
describe after your own fancy ! You have been
unjust in many of the things you have imagined
about me. I, sold to a party for the sake of any
woman ! — you cannot believe it of me.

I look upon all pleasure as degrading, and as
tainted that does not rise from and return to the
heart ! Oh ! you owe me many amends ! I have

Y 2

324 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

not had the thoughts you credit me with. I have
a horror of all that trenches on seduction, because
it is contrary to all that is pure and true in senti-
ment. Out of the works of my imagination you
have created monsters. One has to accept the disad-
vantages of a faculty along with its advantages. I
entreat you to endeavour to understand me better.

You place much more importance than I
do on the frivolous pleasure of driving rapidly
to the Bois. This is a mere fantaisie d'artiste, a
childish whim. My rooms are a pleasure to me,
a necessity, like that of having clean linen or
of bathing. I have acquired the right to have
silk hangings, because to-morrow, if need were, I
could return without a regret to the artists garret,
the empty garret, rather than give my counten-
ance to anything to be ashamed of, rather than
sell myself at any price. Oh, do not calumniate
a soul who loves you, and who thinks of you in
his moments of heaviness ! Do you believe that
I would quit the world of ideas, and give up the
chance of becoming a man of a European fame,
for the political world, if I did not feel that I could
do something that is great, that I could serve my
country ?

Do believe that I am not destitute of common
sense.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 325

Do not forget any one, in conveying my re-
membrances ; not even M. Larreguy, if you see him ;
and make the speeches I ought to make to neigh-
bours and to everybody, not forgetting M. Berges,
my electoral guide.

A thousand kind things and a grip of the hand
to M. Carraud. The ' Voyage à Java ' will ap-
pear in November ; M. Grand- Besançon will re-
ceive the number of the ' Revue/ in which it will
appear. Find here all that is yours within my
soul, and all that is good in

Your Honoré.

To Madame de Balzac at Pans.

Aix : September 30, (midday).

I have your last letter of the 25th, and I can
answer it before the courier leaves — I have only a
moment.

I beg of you, my dear mother, in the name of
my heavy work, never to write to me that such a
work is good, and such another bad ; you upset
me for a fortnight.

You have not taken in good part something
I said to you ; you do not understand my heart
and affection.

I am more disturbed by this than by anything

326 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

else ! When will you repose quietly on the
hearts of your children ?

• •

I cannot send you any power of attorney : in
the first place, there are no French stamps for it
to be had in Savoy ; next, you do not send me a
draught of the form. Have the case adjourned, if
you cannot settle it otherwise, and send me a form
by return of post, poste restante Geneva. I can
go and write the power at Ferney, which is in
France, and quite close to Geneva.

Gosselin's letter was of the highest import-
ance, and I am very vexed at having no news
from Mame, to whom I am writing by this post
(this letter-writing kills me!) Gosselin has no
more copies left of the ' Contes philosophiques/
and very soon you will receive from him, when
the bargain is concluded, in accordance with the
replies I am expecting, two thousand seven hun-
dred francs in cash, I hope.

So that my account will be proved correct.
Without reference to the third edition of the
' Scènes/ which is impending, there will still be :

• FRANCS.

Six months certain of the ' Revue ' . . 3,000

Third edition of the * Romans et Contes

philosophiques' 2,700

Second dizain (1500 copies, 1 fr. 50 c) . 2,200

'La Bataille' 1,800

Total 9,700

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 327

I shall therefore soon be ahead of my
affairs !

You will receive instructions about the method
in which you are to receive Barbier's three thousand
francs, for the reprints of the ' Contes/ of ' Les
Chouans/ of ' La Bataille/ and of the ' Médecin/
for which I shall stipulate with him.

A thousand tender caresses and a kiss.

Don't forget anything I have charged you with
in my letters.

From Geneva to Genoa, from Genoa to Naples,
from Naples to Rome ; but I shall write to you
when I send the ' Médecin de Campagne.'

To M. Marne, Bookseller and Editor, Paris.

Aix : September 30, Sunday, 1832.

My dear Monsieur Marne, — I have just re-
ceived a letter from your nephew-in-law, regarding
a third edition of my ' Romans et Contes philoso-
phiques/ of which the fourth volume is about to
appear. I n pursuance of my present intention, to
which I am resolved to adhere, of giving you the
publication of all my works, I will not reply with-
out consulting you.

Gosselin informs me he has only one hundred
and fifty copies left of the three first volumes ; and,

328 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

like a cunning publisher, he wants to make sure
of a contract for a third edition of six hundred
before he knows whether he is to keep them at
twenty-two francs fifty centimes in case of refusal,
or to give them up with the usual discount, if he
makes a new contract, for he foresees that when
the sale of the fourth volume commences they
will be all cleared off.

He offers me two thousand francs in bills,
whereas I want one franc fifty centimes on the
three volumes, which would make two thousand
seven hundred francs in cash. No doubt we shall
come to terms. But if I refuse, he will keep not
only the one franc fifty centimes on the three
volumes, but the seventeen hundred and fifty
copies of the fourth volume.

Then I owe him, in all fairness, ' Le Marquis
de Carabas ' and a romance (a first edition, the
number of which is not yet fixed). I should be
disposed, therefore, to let him have this first im-
pression, which would not exceed in the number
of copies of the first edition of the 4 Marquis de
Carabas/ and let him sell the whole.

I shall only bring you these six volumes in
8vo. when completed, supplemented by two new
volumes of the 'Contes philosophiques/ which
will make up eight volumes, and this will be for

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 329

the winter of 1 833-1 834, to the best of my calcu-
lations.

I requested your nephew to answer me an
important question before I gave him my answer.
Therefore, write to me by return of post, and direct
your letter to Geneva poste restante. This im-
portant question is to enquire how many copies
remain of a third edition of the ' Contes philoso-
phiques ' in two volumes 8vo., without counting
1 La Peau de Chagrin,' which was printed for the
publishers who had the first edition of ' La Peau/
I think my reasons are good and for our mutual
interest, and I do not think these small editions
will injure the complete one I wish to prepare.

This subject is now exhausted ; let us pass to
another.

My mother will soon receive, if she have not
already received, a manuscript work complete / by
me, entitled i Le Médecin de Campagne/ which is
intended for you. Now mark, with twofold atten-
tion, Master Mame! I have long been struck
with the popularity which consists in selling many
thousands of cheap copies in one small volume in
1 8mo. of works like ' Atala/ ' Paul and Virginia,
1 The Vicar of Wakefield/ ' Manon Lescaut/
' Perrault/ &c, &c, and I desire the same for
myself. The numbers sold make up for there

330 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

being only one volume ; but the book must be one
that may be put in the hands of all — the young
maiden, the child, the old man, and even of the
devout female. Then, by the time the book has
become known, which may be long or short,
according to the talent of the author, and that of
the publisher, such a book becomes an important
property, as, for example, ' Les Méditations,' by
Lamartine, the sale of which amounted to sixty
thousand copies ; Volney's ' Ruines/ &c.

My book, then, is a work conceived in this
spirit, a work which the portress of a convent and
the great lady may read alike. I have taken the
New Testament and the Catechism, two books
of excellent teaching, and I have founded mine
upon them. I have placed the scene in a village ;
— however, you will read it all at once — a very rare
thing with me. There are three reasons why I
do not put my name to it : the first is, that I can-
not conscientiously do so; and I am, and will
remain, in spite of all calumnies to the con-
trary, a man of honour always. I have entered
into an engagement with Gosselin ; the second
reason is, that the fourth volume of the ' Contes '
is about to appear, that ' La Bataille ' will appear
likewise, and I do not wish to have three publica-
tions going on at the same time, to say nothing of

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 33 1

1 Les Chouans ' ; the third is, that I shall put my
name to it when the book has made its mark and
has come to the second edition. However, I have
no objection to your letting it be quietly under-
stood that it is mine. You may let the news-
papers assert the fact ; and, moreover, I have
affixed an epigraph signed by my name.

Now I want one franc on each copy, and I will
allow you an edition of thirteen hundred. Put the
book at as low a price as possible. The reason why
I want a thousand francs, is that I am going off
to Italy, and I want to earn the expenses of my
journey. If this proposal pleases you, when you
have read the book, have it printed by Barbier
(Rue des Marais), who has a mechanical press,
and I wish I could regain my interest in the
same ! l Now this edition, that of the ' Chouans,'
and that of the three volumes of the ' Contes
philosophiques/ that of ' La Bataille/ &c, will
repay my travelling expenses. The volume will
contain from two hundred and sixteen to two
hundred and twenty pages, that is from six to
seven sheets in i8mo. with no other embellish-
ment than good paper and clear type. Now
it must be printed in pica. Barbier is sure to
have six sheets of pica ; he can set up the whole

1 Barbier was the purchaser of Balzac's printing establishment.

332 MEMOTRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

in a couple of days, and you can send me the
entire work set up in ' slips ' by the diligence to
Ferney, bureau restant, so that all may be finished
with as little delay as possible, I shall be at
Geneva until October 1 5 ; and I will then send
you back your volume two days after it comes
to hand, with the order to go to press, and I will
not touch it again. If this affair succeeds — and
it will succeed, because I can give you the means
of commanding a sale by getting you the support
of the ' Journal des Connaissances Utiles,' be-
longing to my friend Girardin, who issues as
many as a hundred thousand copies, and my book
being exactly within the scope of his periodical —
he will do us this good service ; if, therefore, we
obtain the success I look for, we should still keep
to the one franc for me, and my mother will be em-
powered to authorise the printing of the several
editions. Supported by the notices and advertise-
ments in Emile de Girardin's paper, and by ad-
vertising in some of the other papers, this will be
a good undertaking for both of us. But before
you can see this as clearly as I do, you must read
the book. If you can clearly prove to me that one
franc a volume is too much {which I do not think
it is), we would make it seventy-five centimes ; but
you must let me have a thousand francs, and

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 333

pay them in to M. de Rothschild, who will give
you a letter of credit for me drawn on his house
at Naples : I will tell you when I send back the
proofs of the volume, where to address your letters,
and you can repay yourself by printing more
copies.

You see that I am not ungrateful for your
readiness to serve me, and more especially for
your not harassing me about thé 'Chouans/
which you will receive corrected, along with the
return of the proofs of the ' Médecin/

I am working night and day, and I do not
wish to be annoyed either by Gosselin or Boul-
land. Consequently, I shall not return to Paris
till I am quit of my liabilities, that I may be a
slave to nobody.

Nevertheless, you, Mame, shall have your
three volumes in 8vo. shortly; two, entitled
' Études de Femmes/ the third ' Conversations
entre Onze Heures et Minuit/ And in the first
place, before all things, let me inform you that, in
case of a third edition of the ' Scènes/ I shall
suppress ' Le Conseil/ also ' Le Devoir dune
Femme/ in the third volume, and fill their places
with a new ' scène/ which will appear in the
1 Revue de Paris/ and will be more suitable to
the nature of the 'Scènes de la Vie privée/

334 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

than ' Le Conseil ' and ' Le Devoir d'une Femme/
which I consider not quite consonant with the
moral intention of that work.

So advise me well before hand when this
second edition will come out ; as if there were a
necessity, I would not send the new ' scène *
to the ' Revue de Paris/ but would let you have
it at once.

Lastly, as we are to reprint the ' Romans et
Contes/ I shall withdraw from that work ' Études
de Femmes/ and ' Sarrazine/ which I do not regard
as philosophical and will replace them by a new
tale, which I have quite ready. In that case
the ' Études de Femmes ' would be completed ;
to which I should give a new title : ' Sarrazine/
the two tales in * Le Conseil/ ' the Message/
4 La Grande Brétèche, ' Le Devoir d'une
Femme/ ' La Transaction/ all thoroughly re-
written and corrected, and several other things,
which you will read in the ' Revue/ such as ' La
Femme abandonnée/ and other articles, which I
shall keep back, in order to have some unpub-
lished work on hand.

As soon as the fourth volume of my ' Contes
philosophiques ' shall be exhausted, I shall with-
draw ' Madame Firmiani/ three sheets, there will
be nothing to put in its place, twenty-four sheets

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 335

being quite enough. Thus, then, * Le Médecin
de Campagne/ ' Les Chouans/ ' Les Études de
Femmes/ ' Les Conversations entre Onze Heures
et Minuit/ and the third edition of the 'Scenes'
will enable you to wait patiently for the ' Physio-
logie du Mariage/ (about which I am still at law),
to include with my other works ; your ' Trois
Cardinaux/ the second edition of ' La Bataille/
and the eight volumes of the 'Contes philoso-
phiques/

You see that I do not lose sight of you. But
my manuscript is the best proof of that It will
be a profitable affair for us both.

I have not yet received your answer to the
letter I lately wrote to you.

Important notice: The 'Gazette' and the
1 Quotidienne ' are the only newspapers admitted
here, into Russia, and into Italy, &c. Always
advertise in them.

A thousand compliments. Remember me to
Madame Mame and to Mademoiselle Clémentine.
And let us live in the hope of publishing a fine
edition of my works in twenty-four volumes, when
I have made my reputation in the Chamber of
Deputies.

A thousand friendly things.

My election is a settled thing among the

336 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

leaders of the Royalist party, in the event of a
general election.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

x Annecy : October 9, 1832.

My dear loved Mother, — You will find en-
closed the MS. of ' Une Lettre à Nodier,' which is
intended as an article for the ' Revue de Paris.'

You will beg M. Pichot to come and see you,

and you will give him twenty-four hours in which

to read this article and make up his mind if he will

insert it exactly as it is in the ' Revue ; ' I hope he

may accept it, because it would make a variety in

our articles. As the letter is very complimentary

to Nodier and to the ' Revue,' I have no doubt

Pichot will accept it : in which case / shall not

require any proofs ; only you must get them to

compare it with the original, and then withdraw

the manuscript In this case, the Letter should be

published immediately and before ' Les Orphelins,'

which M. Pichot could keep till the month of

November.

You will receive by a lady who is starting
for Paris, the complete MS. of ' Le Médecin de
Campagne,' with instructions for Marne, and in a
short time (I am only waiting for my books from
Sache, and for the one I asked you to send me),

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 337

to finish the second dizain of the 'Contes dro-
latiques ' for Gosselin.

As to ' La Bataille/ I am waiting for M. Dieu-
louard's answer, who little knows what it is to
write a book, and then the ' Revue ' will be pro-
vided for until December, because I shall send,
with the corrected proof of the ' Orphelins,' an
article for November, all corrected, along with the
manuscript for December.

The articles for January and February are
each of them half planned and written; there
remains little to be done.

I hope, my much loved mother, you will not
let yourself grow dejected. I work as hard as
it is possible for a man to work ; a day is only
twelve hours long, I can do no more.

I will send another article to the ' Rénovateur ' ;
for, at the next assembling of the Chamber, I
intend to be a Deputy. Farewell, my darl-
ing mother ; I am very tired ! Coffee hurts my
stomach. For the last twenty days I have taken
no rest ; and yet I must still work on, that I may
remove your anxieties. A good kiss full of ten-
der affection.

vol. 1.

338 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Geneva : October 16, 1&32.

My dear Mother,— Your son would like it to
be understood by his mother, that whatever she
may ask is granted beforehand, and that he would
be happy if he could guess her desires. I don't
know what you mean by your goat, but have as
many goats as you please.

You must appeal in the action on the ' Physio-
logie/ if the copies have not been withdrawn from
circulation, and you must ascertain the fact.

As a favour, and in the name of fair dealing,
send me the beginning of the ' Bons Propos des
Religieuses de Poissy/ which Gosselin is detaining ;
I must have it by return of post. My second
dizain is more than half finished. Mame will
have two good octavo volumes, which will please
him ; and c La Bataille ' will soon be ready. I
have worked like a demon, for I am anxious to
pay everybody before six months are over. I
should much like to know if Mame is pressed
for the ' Chouans.'

Reckoning everything, I ought to have a
thousand francs to go to Italy. Unless something
unforeseen occurs, I shall return into Touraine
by a charming route at the end of October. It is

%

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 339

there that I intend to correct the proofs of ' La
Bataille.' You must get me, from Merlin, or some
other old bookseller, the works of Tabourot,
seigneur des Accords, and send them to me with
urgent speed. There are several titles by which
the work is known. Merlin will tell you them, or
better still, you will find them mentioned in the
' Biographie Universelle/ under the article Ta-
bourot. I must positively have them. I think
the principal work is ' Les Coq à l'âne,' ' Les
Touches/ c Les Contre-petteries du Seigneur des
Accords ; ' I do not well remember. And now,
my dear beloved mother, you will find enclosed
in this letter two pieces of flannel, which I have
worn over my stomach, and which you must
take to M. Chapelain. Begin by having the
piece marked No. i submitted to examination.
Let the question be asked, where is the seat of
the disease ? and what is the course of treat-
ment to be followed. Have the reason of every-
thing explained, the why and the wherefore of
everything, and everything stated in full detail.
Next for No. 2, ask the reason why the blister
was ordered in the preceding consultation, and
post the answer on the same day you have
the consultation, and consult as soon as you
receive my letter. Take care to carry the

z 2

34° MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

flannels wrapt in paper, that the emanations may
not be affected.

Answer me as to all I have asked concerning
Pichot and the ' Revue/ point by point Let
them send to me here the number of the reviews
in which my articles have appeared, independently
of the numbers I received in Paris for my collec-
tion. Entreat Éverat, the printer, to give me a
'Déburau/ 1 and add it to my parcel. He will
know what this means.

Has Laura forgotten me?

Farewell, for I have delayed writing up to the
last moment for the post on account of the pieces
of flannel. We only get our letters on Tuesday,
Friday and Sunday, which occasions delay. I
embrace you from my heart with an outpouring
of tenderness.

I forgot to say, seal up the ' consultations/ and
address them, writing outside the envelope, ' To
Madame de Castries/ Write the address your-
self, but have the letter sealed by M. Chapelain.

1 An article by Jules Janin, on the celebrated pantomimist of
that name.

\

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 34!

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Geneva : October, 1832.

My very dear Mother, — It is advisable I

should return to France for three months. In

spite of the kindness of the Rothschilds and the

Embassies, it would be impossible from so great

a distance to print the ' Médecin de Campagne/

1 La Bataille,' the Second Part of the ' Contes

drolatiques/ and the ' Etudes de Femmes/ The

third edition of the 'Scènes de la Vie privée'

is exhausted ; I wish to profit by this to cut out

two scenes, and to add a new one more moral

than those I shall omit

I have also an alteration of the ' Contes philo-
sophiques ' in view for the fourth edition, which I

shall do sometime in April.

Then, I must think about the articles for the
4 Revue/ and leave them all ready on my de-
parture. Besides, my travelling companions will
not be at Naples till February.

I shall, therefore, come back, but not to Paris :
my return will not be known to anyone ; and I
shall start again for Naples in February, via
Marseilles and the steamer.

I shall be more at rest on the subjects of
money and my literary obligations. I shall have

342 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

money enough to pay all, and nobody will have a
claim upon me for a line.

I have sent the thousand francs to Naples,
less a hundred which I wanted.

I shall settle this with Mame, to whom I am
bringing a fine work — at least I hope so.

I do not know yet where I shall go ; but do
not speak of my return to anyone, except to Laura
and to Surville.

I am greatly annoyed with M. Laurentie, but
much pleased with Pichot about the ' Lettre à
Nodier.' 'Les Orphelins ' is at the printers, and
there will be a prosperous month of November.

Pay nothing further to the tailor. Let the
money from the ' Revue de Paris ' accumulate for
a capital. I start this evening, but I am not sure
where I shall go, for I break my journey at Dijon,
where I shall sleep. Adieu ! good mother, a
thousand loving things.

To Madame de Balzac, Paris.

Nemours : November 5, 1832.

My very dear Mother, — Keep your house ; I
had already sent an answer to Laura, I will not
let either you or Surville bear the burden of my
affairs.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 343

However, until the arrival of my proxy, it
is understood that Laura, who is my cash keeper,
will remit you a hundred and fifty francs a month.
You may reckon on this as a regular payment ;
nothing in the world will take precedence of it.
Then, at the end of November, to December 10
you will have the surplus of the thirty-six thousand
francs to reimburse you for the excess of the
expenditure over the receipts during the time of
your stewardship ; during which, thanks to your
devotion, you gave me all the tranquillity that
was possible.

Laura tells me you can find a tenant for your
house, at two thousand five hundred francs, it
would not be a bad plan to make him pay the
contributions,

I thank you heartily, dear mother, for all you
wish to do for me; if I was less overwhelmed
with work, I could say more, but time will be my
advocate.

Adieu, I embrace you with all my soul, and
I desire that you may arrange a peaceful and
quiet life for yourself; for my part, I do not wish
in the future to cause you annoyances or cares of
any kind.

Make out the account soon, so that what is a
business affair, may be settled without delay.

344 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

As to personal troubles, I shall scarcely give
you any, if you will not doubt my heart, for I
shall be a long time absent

A thousand kind things.

Has nota china vase come for me ?

Paris : the end of 1832.

Oh ! my dear mother. I shed tears of joy
over your letter ! Yes, certainly ; everything you
desire ! I have never felt so happy. My God,
I did not expect the happiness of being able to
afford you a few happy moments on my own
account !

This evening, between five and six, I shall be
with you — and we will dine together — -not to-day,
but on Saturday. A thousand tender caresses,
my beloved mother. I want you to find my kiss
written here when you arrive.

Your devoted Son,

Honoré.

In less than seven or eight months from this
time, I will make you so happy that you shall feel
quite well !

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 345

To M. Charles Gosselin, Publisher, Paris.

Paris : 1833

I participate, sir, in the pleasure you must feel
at the happy accouchement of Madame Gosselin,
and I am sorry for the annoyances ' Louis
Lambert ' has caused you. I do not reply to your
last observations, because it would be intermin-
able. And if I feel acutely the things that wound
me, I can also sometimes forget them.

I have the honour to inform you, in order that
there may not be a double delivery, that I am
sending out of the hundred and twenty-five copies
of the mechanical paper — a copy to each of the
following persons :

MM. N isard, Béquet, Amédée Pichot, Mévil
Ballanche, Phillippon, De Briant, A. Berthier,
Cazalès, Charles Nodier, Coste, O'Reilly (of the
' Temps '), Marne, Chasles, Rabou. I shall also
send to all the provincial newspapers.

I undertake to bear the expense of this, ac-
cording to your request ; and I beg that you will
not forget the advertisements in ' La Quotidienne '
and the ' Gazette/

As to the letter you expected from M. Surville,
I am astonished that it has not yet reached you ;

346 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

for I sent a satisfactory reply to M. Surville about
your propositions. But I know he is much oc-
cupied.

Pray present my congratulations to Madame
Gosselin, and accept yourself the assurance of my
highest consideration.

Madame de Balzac, my mother, has no copy
of Volume IV. of the ' Romans et Contes philoso-
phiques/ will you send me one, placing it to my
account ?

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Angoulcme.

Paris : Jan. 25, 1833.

1 Juana ' l has made me ill, you will have read
it ere this. The illness was simply that I had
to wait for the frame of mind in which I felt it
possible to write this story. It has produced a
great effect. I wrote it, as I wrote ' La Gréna-
dière/ in a single night.

Sorrows of all kinds are taking their usual
course, binding themselves tightly into my life by
a thousand ligaments.

Borget 2 is now, as you know, in the Rue
Cassini. I thank you much for having given
me so good a friend. He has a soul which is

1 Juana, the first title of part of Mar ana.

9 Borget and Balzac shared at this time the same lodgings.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 347

like that of a brother to my own, full of those
delicacies of feeling which I adore, and I hope I
may be for him all that he is for me. I cannot
leave here till after February 1 5 ; but if you could
hasten your departure by a few days, and if I
were to delay mine, I might join you at Frapesle.
I have the greatest desire to see the Cathedral of
Bourges.

Thanks for your kind letter. You are quite
right on all points in your opinion of * Faust ; ' but
there is poetry in it which you have not perceived,
and about which we will talk some day : after-
wards you shall read the work again, and under
the influence of another thought, you will see it
all in another aspect. As to ' Lambert/ you will
before long receive a small parcel through M.
Sazerac, which will contain my offering. A copy
is in existence for you, printed on Chinese paper,
and at this moment the best artists in book-bind-
ing are employed in rendering this copy worthy
of you. I entreat you never to lend it to anyone.

You know that when you work in tapestry,
each stitch is a thought Well, each line in this
new work has been for me an abyss. It contains
things that are secrets between it and me. . . .
Take great care of it, I will send you a common
copy, which you can lend, that is if you should

348 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

feel disposed to lend it to others. The work is
now much more complete than it was, more filled
in, the style is better, may it one day become a
monument to me! Some days hence, you will
receive the second dizain of the ' Drolatiques,' then
' Le Médecin de Campagne,' two works which,
added to ' L'historié Intellectuelle de Louis Lam-
bert,' ought to raise me out of my pagehood
(me mettre /tors de page).

M. Naquart fears some mischief is setting up
in my brain, from so much bitter hard work. At
the end of February my connection with the
' Revue ' will cease ; after that I shall not write
for any journal, except for enormous pay, because
it is this newspaper writing which knocks me
down. I once thought of addressing a letter to
you, and inserting it in ' Louis Lambert ' as l'envoi,
but it seemed to me not worth while. This copy
will be better with the hidden grace of its secret.
Your soft hands will enjoy turning over the leaves
of this book ; may its contents be equally pleasing
to your soul ! Adieu ! then. You will write me a
line, — am I to come to Angoulême ? am I to come
to Frapesle ? and say for me a thousand friendly
things to the Commandant, whatever you think
proper to your neighbours, and a remembrance
to my lovely sweetheart; as for yourself, you

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 349

know best whether I can write anything worthy
of the millionth part of the good gentle thoughts
you inspire.

To Madame Zultna Carraud, at Frapesle.

Paris : Saturday, May 26, 1833.

Madame, — I am divided whether to thank
you, or — to scold you ; I will do both in the same
breath.

I have received the carpet, it gives a royal
aspect to my study : to me, who know the giver,
how priceless is that carpet ! Also I have received
the tea service. It is graceful and lovely, and can
be admired by all because it can be seen by all :
though I would prefer that it should be seen by
myself alone.

We are both fortunate, you and I. You to have
given me an object which I am glad to possess,
and I am fortunate to receive it at your hands.

I must tell you I am buried under a mountain
of work. My life alternates mechanically : I go to
bed at six or seven in the evening, like the fowls ;
at one in the morning I am awakened, and I
work till eight ; at eight o'clock I sleep again for
an hour and half ; then I take some slight refresh-
ment and a cup of pure coffee ; and then I put
myself once more in harness, and work till four

350 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

in the afternoon ; then I receive visitors, take a
bath, or go out ; and, after dinner, I go to bed.
This is the life I must lead for some months to
come, if I would not be overwhelmed by my
liabilities.

Profits come in slowly : debts are inexorable
and remorseless. I am now in the certain road
to make a fortune, but I must wait and work yet
three years.

I must re-write, and again revise, to put my
works into a monumental condition ; a thankless
labour, counting for nothing and of no immediate
profit.

I want my liberty, my independence moral and
pecuniary, for this object I sacrifice everything,
without regret. Only I must defer going to see
you, and that I cannot help regretting. One thing
is certain, after all this labour, the most entire rest
will be necessary. I shall go to seek it either at
Angoulême or in Berry, but it must be in the
country. Perhaps I may go to the waters at Aix,
on my own account, for that however I must have
the opinion of M. Nacquart.

But as rest will be necessary to me, the repose
of a den, I must thank you once more for your
indulgence towards my darling whims, the craving
for elegance and grace in my surroundings. How

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 35 1

much poetry there is in you, and how much
thoughtfulness also; two things which, on the
surface, seem incompatible.

Of the two observations you make upon
'Juana/ one I will not discuss, it is a point
irrevocably decided ; on the other, we will say the
same thing : given the same latitude, the Islander
has the advantage over the native of the continent.
Granted that Napoleon was educated in France,
that did not destroy his insular mind.

All the workmen in Paris are being driven to
their wits end to find, what would seem to be the
easiest thing in the world — a box to hold your
copy of ' Louis Lambert/ I hope, however, it will
be ready by Tuesday next, and then you will
receive it on Sunday the 17th, if the diligence
does its duty.

There are still many faults in this * Louis
Lambert' How much pains and trouble this
work will have cost me ; it frightens one to think
of it. It is the same with the ' Peau de Chagrin ; '
the forthcoming edition will, I hope, be as perfect
as a human work can be made. Work, and the
thoughts of this narrow round of existence, have
absorbed everything. I work too hard ; and I am
too much worried with other things to be able to
pay attention to those sorrows which sleep and

352 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

make their nest in the heart. It may be that I
shall lose the habit of estimating women as I do,
and I shall come to the end of life, without having
realised the hopes I entertained from them.

Farewell — pardon the brevity of this letter.
You will divine all I do not express ; but one thing
you can never know fully, and that is, how
intensely I desire to be at the Poudrerie in peace
and quietness, and with you. Farewell once more,
a thousand amiable things to M. Carraud, farewell
— how I wish I could say, i à demain, we will have
breakfast together.'

To M. Edmond Werdet, Publisher, Paris.

Paris : March 4, 1833.

When you, sir, came to see me the other day,
my head was preoccupied with work distasteful
to my imagination, and I could only imperfectly
understand what you wanted of me.

My head is more free to-day ; will you do me
the pleasure to come and see me at fpur o'clock,
and we can then talk.

Mille civilités.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 353

To M. Amédée Pic hot, Editor of the
' Revue de Paris/

Paris : March 1833.

Sir, — According to the proof sheets, which I
received this morning with the ' Revue/ the para-
graph 3 of ' Ferragus * makes twenty-five pages ;
the paragraph 4 ought to do the same. I warn
you of this, because in that case the next number
would hardly be more than fourteen pages, if even
so much.

In the interest of the * Revue/ I am setting to
work to write the last paragraph. It is a great
sacrifice on my part ; but if I leave the ' Revue/ I
wish to give no cause for complaint.

Now for business. I wish to meet you on
Monday at three o'clock, at the office of the
' Revue/ in order to settle the six months' account.
I scarcely owe sixty pages ; according to my own
calculations, I have given a hundred. The month
of March (excepting the subscription accounts and
carriage of proofs, which cannot be much), will be
owing to me. I wish you to be there to settle
the rather disgraceful haggling which there has
been about some of the lines and blank spaces,
&c. I am always easy to deal with ; but the last
time I settled accounts, in December 1831, I was

vol. 1. A A

354 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

abominably treated. This matter settled, it would
be nothing extraordinary for the ' Revue ' to join
March and April together, and to give me a
thousand francs ; for if I am occupied all this week
with the ' Revue/ I ought to be treated with some
liberality.

I am not asking any great favour, seeing that
the article written on the ' Théorie de la Démarche '
has thirty-two pages, and I have almost entirely
corrected them, except a few scientific additions,
which are still wanting. I shall have also for
April 14 the twenty pages on the Salon, 1 and the
* Théorie de la Démarche ' shall have a second
article.

We will settle accounts of this string of ar-
ticles when the whole of the ' Théorie ' shall have
appeared, which will take us on to" May. Then
the * Revue ' will be my debtor, and we shall
both be free — I to ask a great deal, 'La Revue* to
refuse, and we shall separate ; I, with the certainty
of having always acted in the most generous and
courteous manner, and ' La Revue * will have no
right to do me an ill turn either in words or in
articles. 2

1 This article on the Salon was never written.

3 In consequence of this explanation Balzac ceased to write for
the Revue de Paris. The Théorie de la Démarche appeared in
ï Europe littéraire.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 355

Have the goodness to send a word of reply
about our rendezvous for to-morrow at three
o'clock, as I shall have to quit writing your
copy, which will, I hope, be all sent in by
Monday.

Accept my compliments.

To Madame Zulma Car r and ^ Angoulême.

Paris : 1833.

God knows I would gladly be at the Poudrerie.
But how ? I have not one volume yet printed
ôf the new edition of the ' Chouans.' I have still
twelve to thirteen sheets of the ' Médecin de Cam-
pagne ' to finish ; and I have to furnish this month
a hundred pages to the ' Revue/ To accomplish
all this, am I not obliged to stay in Paris ? Then,
in money matters, difficulties grow, because ones
needs are regular, whilst receipts are as anomalous
as if they were comets !

Certainly I hope to be at the Poudrerie on
March 10. I want a good month of solitude to
finish this ' Bataille/ which worries me much. I
forgot the second issue of the ' Drolatiques/ for
which I have still two tales to write, of which one
is the greater part of the volume.

I assure you I live in an atmosphere of thoughts,

a a 2

356 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

ideas, plans, work, and conceptions, which cross
each other, and boil and bubble in my head enough
to madden me ! Nevertheless, I do not grow thin.
I am, as to the body, le plus vrai pourtraict de
moine, qui oncques ait été vu — depuis V extrême
heure des couvents.

As regards my soul, I am profoundly sad.
My work alone keeps me alive. Will there never
then be a woman for me in this world ? My fits of
despondency and bodily weariness come upon me
more frequently, and weigh upon me more heavily ;
to sink under this crushing load of fruitless labour,
without ever having near me the gentle caressing
presence of woman, for whom I have worked so
much !

But let us leave all that. I have yet to thank
you for all the trouble you took about my dinner-
service, and for all the good things you say to me.
Your letters always produce on me the effect of
those lovely flowers, the perfume of which exhila-
rates and soothes.

I know nothing about Madame de St. S ,

no more than I do of many other women, who
pretend that I am their lover, and of whom I
know neither the name nor the face. When in
Angoulême, I saw no one. I only know you and
the persons I met at your house.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 357

We have eaten your pâté with a sacred reve-
irence, thinking naturally of you in our hearts, as
you may imagine- ' Le Médecin de Campagne '
has cost me ten times more trouble and labour than
even ' Lambert/ There is not a phrase nor an
idea which has not been considered, read, re-read,
and corrected. It is frightful to think of. But
when one desires to attain to the simple beauty
of the Gospels, and to put in practice the
1 Imitation* of Thomas à Kempis, one has need
to dig, and delve, and go over one's ground
often !

Adieu for the present ! I hope to see you
soon. The delay is no fault of mine.

Hasten the people about my dinner-service.
I have a dinner party to give, and I know not
how soon. As to the cups, I should like them of
a simple and elegant form. The dessert-plates, as
you know, should be more elaborately ornamented
than the others.

I send you herewith my cypher, 1 for their
guidance.

1 H.B. with the coronet of a Count

358 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To M. Guilder t de Pixérécourt, dramatic author ',

Paris.

Angoulêrae : April 29, 1833.

My dear Librarian (for the bargain can be
made, time aiding, at least if my muse, Necessity,
does not run away), — I received your amiable
invitation on the day you were joyously break-
fasting with your guests ; therefore, it was a
physical impossibility for me to join that biblio-
grapho-gastronomic festival ; but I had a presenti-
ment of it, for on the road travelling to your
address there is at this moment a properly per-
fumed pâté de Grobot ; it ought to be very good,
and very insufficient to repay the debt of kindness
which always recurs to my memory when I think
of you.

A thousand kind compliments.

To Madame Zulma Carraud 9 Frapesle.

Paris : Saturday, May 26, 1833.

1 Thanks, my dear Auguste, a thousand times ! '
I charge you, Madame, to say this to Borget,
with all the accent you know how to place on heart-
felt expressions. I knew very well that dear Ivan l
and you would write to me on the road, for you

1 Ivan was Madme Carraud's eldest son.

\

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 359

know by sympathy how dear and precious every-
thing about you is to me. Yes, certainly, it is
probable I shall come and see you in Berry. As
if by magic, my power of hard work, my sixteen
hours a day, has come back to me with greater
courage and inspiration than I have ever yet
known.

The 'Médecin de Campagne' is finished.
You will receive it at Issoudun with the second
dizain of the 4 Drolatiques/ at the beginning of next
month. I have only eight days' work of correction
of proofs. Have no fear, the end is more beautiful,
to quote her whom you so justly called an angel,
than the beginning. The work goes crescendo.

I still continue to suffer the colic, and I am
promised influenza.

Vichy waters would, I think, be of service to
your dear child, but wait for the effect of Frapesle.
In any case, think about magnetism. My sister
has been cured of the same illness as Madame
Ni vet's, by a course of magnetic treatment, through
the simple action of my mother repeated twice a
day. It is an indisputable fact. Therefore, mag-
netise Ivan.

I did not say good-bye either to you or to the
Commandant, in order not to awake you ; but I
was put out at not being able to give you the

360 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

cordial and very sincere, though somewhat melan-
choly, kiss of farewell.

When the manuscript of the ' Privilège ' is
finished, I shall go and see Bourges.

It has come to saying adieu. You are one of
the three persons to whom I write — but I can
only write short letters, with all my proofs and
work. ' Le Succube ' 1 has been declared grand,
sublime, gigantic ! I am very glad of the success
which is predicted for the second dizain. Adieu !
once more. Write to me from Frapesle how long
you will be there. I will come and see you — putting
my affection for you all out of the question, I should
still come to refresh my soul in the patriarchate.
Besides, I shall come for the sake of one of your
looks of approval ; it will be my best reward for
this ' Médecin de Campagne/ some of the pages
of which were inspired by you. Adieu, with
tenderness and gratitude.

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Frapesle.

Paris : 1833.

I write to you in haste. Only figure to your-
self I am appointed to the Tribunal of Commerce ;
but I have declined, especially as I place no de-

1 One of the Contes Drolatiques.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 36 1

pendence on it. Mame demands everything from
me all at once.

I am working day and night. The 4 Médecin
de Campagne ' is finished ; I am satisfied with
the second volume.

The 'Chouans' when corrected will be an-
nounced to him by the huissier (sheriff's officer).

My attorney assures me I am certain to gain
my lawsuit, everything being in order on my side.
It would be too long to give you all the details of
this tiresome affair, which locks up the thousand
francs, of which I must supply the place ; luckily
the third part of the ' Drolatiques ' is finished, and
with the ' Privilège ' will make up for all ; but it
is work enough to make one lose one's senses !

The ' Médecin ' still requires five or six days
and nights to revise proofs. The second dizain
has appeared ; but Gosselin has not yet sent me
any copies. I will send yours to Angoulême.

I shall write to-morrow, for the second time,
to M. Ni vet for what I want, and for my china
toilet set.

You must still be ill, as you have only written
a little scrap. When are you returning to An-
goulême ?

I cannot write more now, three sheets of the
' Médecin ' having been just brought in for me to

362 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

read, and I have besides to correct some slip
proofs for the conclusion.

A thousand remembrances to the Commandant
Piston ; * but I am here under the play of a still
greater piston, and I shall indeed want a good
months rest in September. I am sorry not to be
able to say the hundredth part of the things I
have to tell you ; but as regards what is in my
heart, you know it all.

To M. Charles Gosselin, Publisher, Paris.

Paris : 1833.

Sir, — It is impossible for me to leave the cor-
rection of the third and fourth volumes in 1 8mo.
of the ' Chouans ' for a single instant, the judg-
ment of arbitration deeming that I must transmit
the third to M. Mame on Tuesday, and I am too
anxious to have nothing more to do with him, to
fail through delay. Thus I have only just time
to finish it, and the shortest absence from home
hinders me much more than a conference at
home.

Therefore, everyone having business with me
must obey this necessity. I am free till midnight.
Nevertheless, Tuesday being only the 17th, there

1 A name given by Balzac to M. Carraud.

\

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 363

will still be time between now and the 20th to pay
the first instalment of my indemnity.

You can also bestow more reflection on this
business, which is very important, and of great
extent as an operation.

However, if we do not come to an agreement
on Tuesday, I shall only have a very few moments,
and it is not my intention to run after anyone,
understand this.

Since the letter which I wrote to you, some
one has already been to request, if you would not
take the whole of the affair, to be allowed to share
it with you. I replied that you had already given
me to understand that it was not your intention to
act with any publisher.

I have sixteen copies of the ' Bulletin des
Lois,' with the Index of the Galiffet edition : I
should like to exchange them for books. I
should like the ' Grands Historiens de France,' in
parts, from Arthus Bertrand, also the ' Mémoires
de Saint-Sirtion ; ' if this suit you, and also M.
Renouard, we could arrange this matter.

Accept my compliments.

To the Duchesse d 'Abrantès, Versailles.

Paris : 1833.

There is nothing to divide us, but seventeen
hours a day of work, and the physical impossi-

364 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

bility of going anywhere, except to my attorney
about my lawsuit with Mame, whom I should not
like to meet at your house.

You seemed willing last winter to come and
see me in my den. I then said, ' Come, and we
will have a gossip/ I am now more oppressed
than ever by my work. I have to send in an
historical novel, called ' Le Privilège ' by the end
of the month ; I have five or six articles promised
to friends ; in fact, I am walled up in my work.
Nevertheless, for you, I am quite ready to fix an
evening when we may be alone, and always
friends.

I do not know if I can be free on Monday,
but you shall be sure to see me on the day when
I am not detained by proofs for press.

To Madame Laure Surville % Monglat.

Paris : June 1833.

My dear Laura, — You go away without saying
1 by your leave ; ' the poor workman runs down to
your house to have a partaker in a small pleasure,
and finds no sister ! As I torment you so often
with my troubles, I must at least write you word
of this little pleasure.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 365

You will not laugh at me, you will believe me,
you will !

• •••••

I went to call yesterday on Baron Gérard ;
he presented three German families to me. I
thought I was dreaming. Three families ! . . .
Nothing less ! . . . One came from Vienna ; the
other from Frankfort; the third was Prussian,
from what part I do not know.

They confided to me they had come faithfully
to call on Gérard for a month past, in the hope of
meeting me, and they told me further, that outside
the frontier of France my reputation begins (dear
ungrateful country !) They added, ' Persevere,
and you will soon be at the head of literary
Europe ! ' — of Europe, dear sister, they really said
so ! Flattering families !

. • • • • •

Ma foi ! They were benevolent Germans, and
I allowed myself to believe that they thought
what they said ; and to tell the truth, I could have
listened to them all night. Praise agrees so well
with us artists. These honest Germans revived
my courage, and I went away from Gerard's quite
gaily. I intend to open a triple fire on the public
and on the envious, to wit : ' Eugénie Grandet/
' Les Aventures d'une Idée heureuse/ which you

366 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

O

know, and my ' Prêtre Catholique/ one of my
finest subjects.

The affair of the ' Études de Mœurs ' is going
on well ; thirty thousand francs as the authors
share will stop many holes. This block of debts
once removed out of my road, I shall go to seek
my reward at Geneva. Thus the horizon begins
to clear.

I have again begun my routine of work. I go
to bed at ten o'clock, with my dinner in my
mouth — the animal digests and sleeps till mid-
night. Auguste wakens me with a cup of coffee,
upon which the mind works without a break till
noon. I run to the printing-office, to take my
copy and to bring back my proofs — in order to
give the animal exercise, and he dreams as he
walks along. One can put a great deal of black
upon white in twelve hours, little sister — and by
the end of a month of this kind of life a good deal
is accomplished. The poor Pen ! it ought to be
made of diamond, not to wear out at this rate !
To increase its master's reputation — as the Ger-
mans prescribed — to acquit him of all his debts,
and finally to earn for him, some day, his repose
on the mountain side — such is the task for my
Pen!

' Que diable allez-vous faire à Monglat ?' Of

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 367

course, you are free to go there, and I do not
reproach you. I only ask from a curiosity which
may be pardoned between brother and sister.

Addio! addio! correct 'Le Médecin* care-
fully : mark all the passages which you think
weak, and mets les grands pots dans les petits — that

is to say, if a thing can be said in one line instead
of two, try to say it.

To M. Forfellier, chief Editor of the ' Écho de

la jeune France/

Paris : June 1833,

Sir, — There are some false assertions in your
note (relative to the publication of the ' Duchesse
de Langeais ' in the ' Écho de la jeune France ') ;
if you publish it, I shall answer it.

If it enters the region of personality, I shall
demand satisfaction, and I will have it.

You know that your two hundred francs are
all ready. The scandal which you are seeking will
oblige me to take a decided course with you.

Lastly, I must repeat that you transgress all
laws, not only of politeness but of uprightness, in
refusing to recognise that I never conceded more
to you than the use of my article.

Your servant.

368 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Angoulême.

Paris : August 2, 1833.

I answer you at once, under the influence of the
emotions caused by your letter. You are suffer-
ing ! Think of me, think of magnetism, which is
no illusion. I would travel a hundred leagues to
save you two days' pain. You do not know how
faithful and exclusive and devoted I am in friend-
ship ! Do not fancy that because I am able to
traverse all the points of the circumference of the
circle, I cannot remain fixed to the centre. When
I think of you, I have the gratitude still fresh in
my heart of the time when you showed your-
self so sweet and indulgent towards the foolish
irritation caused in me by the use of coffee. I
wish I were still at the Poudrerie !

I can give you news of the lawsuit. The
supreme judgment is delivered. Messrs. Dupin
and Boinvilliers, the two most distinguished ad-
vocates of the Bar, have decided that I ' showed
ill will ' in taking eight months to write the
( Médecin de Campagne.' They have given me four
months to write ' Les Trois Cardinaux.' And they
are persons of intelligence ! In default of fulfil-
ling this award, I am liable to a fine of three thou-
sand eight hundred francs — which would set me

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 369

free. The Duke of Fitzjames has written me
a letter, which has deeply touched me. As soon
as he heard of this decision, he begged me to
draw at sight on his banker for three thousand
eight hundred francs, so that I might deliver my-
self from this hangman ! I declined gratefully ;
saying that hitherto, in all the emergencies of my
life, my courage had proved stronger than my
misfortunes ; but I promised that if by any
sudden turn of affairs I should find myself in need
of these three thousand eight hundred francs, I
would borrow them from him for a month.

The sentence pronounces my publisher to be
a liar, a calumniator, and to have behaved outrage-
ously towards me ; but none the less have my
judges decided that I must continue my business
relations with him.

And yet my judges are men of honour, every-
body says so.

My publisher is condemned to pay me three
thousand francs for ' Le Médecin de Campagne,'
and since the sentence was pronounced he has
refused to do this.

An enormous expense was incurred in en-
forcing the judgment, and this very day my work
has been seized in default of payment

vol. 1. B B

370 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Such is my life : lawyers, lawsuits, worries
without end. Faites donc de belles choses.

I have received poignard stabs from chapter to
chapter, whilst writing this work, which my friends,
even the most fastidious of them, consider sublime.
It has personally cost me a thousand francs for
corrections, of which the arbitrators have taken no
account whatever. I say nothing of my nights
and days of work, of my health undermined by the
abuse of coffee. . . .

I am going to the 'Journal des Enfants* for Ivan.

Take much care of yourself.

Now adieu ! I have forgotten myself for your
sake.

I only intended to say two words. But how
can one help gossiping when with hearty friends ?
You are right, friendship is not found ready
made. Thus every day mine for you increases ;
it has its root both in the past and in the present.
A thousand good words to the Commandant.

To M. Charles Gosselm, Parts.

Paris : August 1833.

Sir, — My lawsuit against Mame the publisher
has been a case of force majeure, which has pre-
vented me from finishing ' Le Privilège,' accord-
ing to my agreement.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 37!

I think, however, there is a method by which
your interests and my own may be rendered
identical.

By virtue of the sentence given against Mame,
and in consequence of the heavy engagements
undertaken with Messrs. Dieuloulard and Boulland,
I became two days ago repossessed of all my rights
to ' Les Scènes de la Vie Parisienne/ so that the
great work of * Études des Mœurs au XIX me
Siècle ' is free.

If, then, you would undertake the publica-
tion of it, my literary obligations to you would be
met. The desire you have expressed to publish
the ' Scènes de la Vie privée ' will not be inter-
fered with. If this proposal suits you, be good
enough to let me know at once, because I am
obliged to have this matter setded before the 20th
of this month.

You are aware that this publication comprises
twelve volumes in octavo ; in which are contained,
six volumes of reprints of books, three of articles
which are reprints, and three volumes which
have not yet been published.

1 Les Scènes de la Vie privée/
' Les Scènes de la Vie de Province.'
1 Les Scènes de la Vie Parisienne/
' Les Scènes de la Vie de Campagne.'

B B 2

372 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

If it does not suit you to undertake the
publication, let me know at once, because several
persons have already made me proposals.

To M. Charles de Bernard, Besançon.

Paris : August 1833.

Sir, — I do not know whether you are at
Besançon, but in the uncertainty I write again.

On Sunday the 22nd, I leave for Besançon by
the mail. I shall be there on Tuesday morning for
a short time ; but during this short time, I should
like to sete you, in order to speak of something
which requires a knowledge of the country, and
which concerns me personally ; also, of something
which may be very agreeable to you.

If this letter finds you at Besançon, would
you have the goodness to ensure me a place in
whatever vehicle goes the quickest, and the
earliest to Neuchâtel ? You would oblige me
infinitely. On Tuesday, then ! Accept, I beg,
a thousand assurances of esteem, and of my highest
consideration.

To M. Charles de Bernard, Besançon.

Neuchâtel, end of September, 1833.

My dear M. de Bernard, — I shall have the
pleasure of seeing you again on Wednesday,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC 373

October 2. Would you be so obliging as to take
a place for me in the mail to Paris ?

I heartily hope you may have something to
say to me about your plan, that is, if you have
worked at it

I have been very happy here. I am much
pleased with what I have seen; the country is
delightful ; but you know that Jupiter has two urns,
and that the gods have no favours which are com-
plete.

It seems to me as if I had given you very
small thanks for the pleasant day you gave me ;
but I hope to prove that I am not ungrateful.

Adieu till Wednesday, believe that I shall have
great pleasure in seeing you again, you who
have caused my visit to Besançon to be not
useless, and also enabling me to find pleasure in
it Accept a thousand kind compliments, and
the obedience of a person who is glad to say he
is ever yours.

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Angoulême.

Neuchâtel : end of September, 1833.

I have just escorted the great Borget as far as
the frontier of the sovereign states of this city.
As you may imagine, you have made a third in

374 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

our long and pleasant friendly gossip. We love
you much, and we are both of us of a dog-like
nature as regards fidelity.

Paris : October 5.

I finish the letter here, begun at Neuchâtel.
Figure to yourself that at the very moment when
I had snugly settled myself at the side of the fire,
to write to you at length in reply to your last
kind letter, I was fetched away to go and see
places, and this lasted until my departure, which
took place on October 1. I was four days on the
road, and here I am at last — thoroughly tired.

I will not tell you more in this letter, for you
will find at M. Sazerac's a little case or parcel
containing your box to hold your writing paper.
Take care when you undo the parcel ; the key is
wrapped in paper, and as it is small you might
lose it.

You will find a letter in the box, in which I
explain all concerning M. Calluau.

This, then, is only a letter to announce the
parcel, and as it will arrive first, I send you now
a thousand tender expressions of my affection.
Endeavour so to arrange things, that I may come
and see you.

A hearty shake of the hand to the Commandant.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 375

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Angoulême.

Paris: Octobers, 1833: evening.

I am writing, as you see, on the very prettiest
paper in the world, and my letter will be enclosed
in just the most fashionable of envelopes ! Does
it come from you ? I know nothing — I found it
here ; it had been brought by someone unknown,
who refused to say by whom he had been sent

This proceeding, coming from you, would
surprise me, for you are quite aware how
much I love you, the importance I attach to your
opinions, and my admiration for the nobility of
your nature. I think you and I are above these
little mysteries. The present must have come from
some other person — and if that be the case, I am
not pleased. I do not choose to accept anything
except from yourself, whom I love so well and to
whom I would like to offer so many things and so
much friendship that you should always be in my
debt. If, then, this paper does not come from
you, will you try to find out who sent it ? If it
has been sent by you, I think there must have
been some mistake, about which we will speak
no more.

I have not sent your scented sachet in this

376 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

box, because it is not yet finished, but it shall be
sent all in good time.

Write soon, for I wish to know if this paper
has been sent by you; if it comes from anyone
else I shall detest it, precisely because as paper it
pleases me.

Now let us come to our undertaking. 1 Borget
has taken from M. Surville two coupons of three
thousand francs each ; my mother and Surville
take each of them three at the same rate ; I have
kept one for myself ; this makes six coupons :
there still remain three coupons ; the undertaking
consisting of nine coupons, at three thousand francs
each. Of these three, I think my mother pur-
posed to take two for my brother ; there remains,
therefore, only one to be taken up for three thou-
sand francs. Borget will bring you a copy of our
deed of partnership, Judge for yourself whether
this small share in the matter will be agreeable to
you. I should have been very pleased if the
Commandant Périollas and yourself had been
sharers in this affair, for it is as safe as any specu-
lation can be. In this state of the case, think it
over, and if you find the rate of interest too

1 This undertaking was to manufacture a special paper for an
edition of Balzac's works. The project came to nothing.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 377

low, I might be able to arrange that with my
mother.

Here is the business part of the matter. Be
good enough to go to see M. Calluau, and propose
to him the conditions on which he may supply us.

1. We must have machine-made paper, 2 ft.
1 1 in. long by 2 ft. 7 in. wide ; the rame must
contain five hundred sheets, and must weigh from
twenty-eight to thirty pounds. We* can only give
him from fifty to sixty centimes a pound. As
concerns the quality, I send you a pattern for the
white paper, and for the style of workmanship.
It is the specimen of a paper that has been offered
to us at sixty-five centimes a pound. A saving
of a penny upon a pound of paper would send all
France to buy it, for the speciality of our under-
taking lies in the prodigious economy of the
process of manufacture. This settled, M. Calluau,
if he accepts the order, must make us a sample of
the paper, and all he furnishes afterwards must
be of the same quality. We shall pay ready
money on the delivery of the paper.

We should need about 1 20 rames a month ;
the supply might be doubled by the end of two
months, and be tripled before the sixth month.
He would always have to keep in stock 140 rames,
certified and ready for use, so that we may always

378 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

have a sufficient quantity of paper on hand, before
we increase our issue, in order not to run short
in case we should need paper from day to day.

The first instalment would be needed between
November 15 and December 1.

If these proposals suit him, my partners and
myself would draw up a deed of the terms, adding
to it a specimen sheet of the paper, and I would
myself come to Angoulême by the next mail.

Will you kindly see at once to this affair,
you and M. Carraud, so that I may have a reply
the soonest possible. This business must be
transacted with the speed of lightning.

Now I want to speak about yourself, about
myself, but I have no time for anything. I hope
soon to be in Angoulême, and then we shall have
one or two good days for all we have to say, but
I will not wait for this journey to express all the
affectionate gratitude there is in my heart for your
last letter, and to tell you that all literary
annoyances only drive me more entirely to take
refuge in the heart of those who love me to find
consolation there. You have not, then, heard how
' Le Médecin ' has been received ? By torrents
of abuse ! The three journals of my party have
spoken of it with the most profound contempt for
the work and for the author ; as regards the other

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 379

1

organs, I know nothing, they cause me no pain.
You are my public, you and a few other chosen
souls, whom I wish to please ; but yourself
especially, whom I am proud to know, you whom
I have never seen nor listened to without gaining
some benefit, you who have the courage to aid
me in tearing out the evil weeds from my field,
you who encourage me to perfect myself, you
who resemble so much that angel to whom I owe
everything ; in short, you who are so good towards
my ill-doings (' mauvaisetés '). I alone know how
quickly I turn to you. I have recourse to your
encouragements, when some arrow has wounded
me ; it is the wood-pigeon regaining its nest. I
bear you an affection which resembles no other,
and which can have no rival, because it is alone
of its kind.

It is so bright and pleasant near you ! From
afar, I can tell you, without fear of being put to
silence, all I think about your mind, about your
life.

No one can wish more earnestly that the road
here below may be smooth for you. I should like
to send you all the flowers you love, as I often
send above your head the most ardent prayers
and wishes for your happiness.

There are still many faults to be corrected in

380 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

' Le Médecin ' — another edition must precede the
cheap one — for I do not wish any work of mine
to be made popular until it is as perfect as it is
given to me to make it

Come yet a few months more of work, and I
shall have made a great step. This winter I shall
finish several works, by which I shall perhaps
make my mark. After ' Louis Lambert ' and
the ' Médecin de Campagne/ I shall bring out in
the same line, ' Les Souffrances de l'Inventeur/
'L'Histoire dune Idée heureuse/ and 'César
Birotteau/ When these three great works are
finished, perhaps I shall have merited one of those
kindly looks which you give me, and which I
count amongst my sweetest, my most precious
rewards ; for I place you among the number of
those most perfect beings who console us for
being in the world.

I must leave you. I must say adieu, while I
have still so many things to say. A thousand
things to the Commandant. Endeavour that I
may see you in eight days from now.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 38 1

To the Duchesse d'Aùrantès, Versailles.

Paris : 1833.

Instead of the great secret, I found on my re-
turn a letter, which came too late to read before
my departure — I only came home on Sunday.

Why do you want my authorisation to speak
well of the ' Médecin de Campagne/ while the
whole world speaks ill of it, on its own private
authority ?

This little note is intended to convey a thou-
sand testimonies of friendship. I write whilst my
bath is being prepared. I have been travelling four
days and nights in a kind of hen-roost, for want of
room in a better place. I cannot understand why
on all the high roads in Switzerland there are
thirty travellers in each town, who are all waiting
for places. I am knocked up by a most useless
journey, but which has enchanted me. I never
saw more lovely scenery than that I have
passed through ; the Val de Travers seems made
for two lovers.

A thousand tender regards ; soon to meet, I
hope. Do not mention my return to anyone, t
have to pass through ten days of pressing work,
during which I shall be like a worm eating its
way through a beam.

;82 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Laure Surville, Monglat.

Paris : 1833.

Two letters from my sister not answered !
Luckily, you do not keep a reckoning with me ; I
knew that long ago. What a dear and sweet
affection is that which causes one no anxiety !

You are convinced, are you not. that I can
never forget her who took my part when I was a
child, who beat me, and who played me those
merry tricks, which brought with them such joyous
laughs. . . . Happy times, whither are you fled ?

I am correcting ' Eugénie Grandet,'

' Je ne dors ni ne veille
Cet enfant me réveille,'

and leaves me but little leisure.

If you knew what it is to knead up ideas, to
give them form and colour, you would not be so
quick at criticism.

Ah ! so there are too many millions of money
in ' Eugénie Grandet ' ? You goose, since the
story is true, do you want me to do better than
the truth ? You are not aware how money grows
in the hands of misers. Still, if your outcries are
well founded, I will either justify the amount or
reduce it in the next edition.

I have brought home an idea that will make

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 383

a grand book from Switzerland. 1 We will talk it
over when you return.

To M. diaries Gosselin, Paris.

Paris : November 16, 1833.

Sir, — I reply to your letter of yesterday,
November 15, and we are now definitely agreed.

' Le Marquis de Carabas ' shall be withdrawn,
as you propose, from our agreement.

On January 18 next I will send you, subject to
the corrections on which we shall afterwards agree,
a copy of the two volumes of ' Contes philoso-
phiques,' of which one volume will be fresh matter,
under a penalty of five hundred francs demurrage
for every fortnight after time. This portion of
the work will replace ' Le Privilège/ a novel in
two volumes, which I was to have delivered to you
in May 1834.

You can announce, this very day, the two
volumes of stories, the titles and the subjects being
quite setded — ' Les Souffrances de l'Inventeur/
4 Aventures administratives dune Idée heureuse
et patriotique/ César Birotteau/ ' Le Prêtre Catho-
lique.'

If the printer whom you select is sufficiently

1 This book was Séraphita.

384 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

rich in types to set up both these volumes, there
will be no delay on my side to interfere with their
appearance on February 1 next.
Accept my hearty compliments.

To Madame Zulma Carratid, Angoulême.

Paris : December, 1833.

Unless I write to you at once after reading
your letter the chances are that it will not be
answered at all. I am carried off my feet by a
torrent of proofs, of work, of writing, and of busi-
ness, which leave me no time to think of any-
thing.

I have just written to M. D . I went

yesterday to Emile de Girardin, and he went to
him. He can there have a situation of from 90
to 100 francs a month ; but it required all my
love for you to enable me to endure the imperti-
nence of Emile.

I cannot come to Angoulême before the first
fortnight in January. I am going to Geneva to
stay there a month but I will come to you — of
that you may be quite sure.

As to M. Bohain, 1 there are many calumnies
afloat about him ; there are also some things that

1 Editor of L Europe littéraire.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 385

are true ; but you may feel assured that I am
too careful of that white robe which is called
glory, honour, reputation, to let any spot fall
upon it.

Thanks for your good letter ; thanks also for
that of Auguste. Tell him that all shall be as
he wishes, that I am his banker, and that when
I come he can tell me what it is that he wants. I
cannot write a reply to his letter, but I can think
of him and love him.

I do not get more than five hours' sleep ; from
midnight to midday I work at my composition, and
from noon till four o'clock I correct my proofs.
By the 25 th I shall have four volumes in print.
' Eugénie Grandet ' will surprise you. Something
very important has happened to me. I cannot
tell you about it until I come to Angoulême.
Perhaps I may then claim all your friendship for
something which I can confide to no one but
yourself. A thousand tender things to yourself ;
and say for me to M. Carraud and to Auguste all
that I have not the time to say.

vol. 1. C C

386 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Zulma Carraud> Angoulême.

Paris : end of December 1833.

What a beautiful present, what a precious re-
membrance you give me, I who know what you
put into each stitch of embroidery ! A thousand
times thanks !

I can say nothing about your criticisms * ex-
cepting this — facts are against you. There is a
grocer at Tours who possesses eight millions of
francs; M. Eynard, who is only a hawker, has
twenty million francs, and has thirteen millions in
gold in his house, which in 18 14 he invested at
fifty-six francs in the ' Grand Livre/ and thus
made it into twenty millions. I will answer your
criticisms, for which I thank you, one by one when
I reach Frapesle. Perhaps you will then see
that the author may have one point of view, whilst
the reader may have another. But nothing can
express what my gratitude is, for the maternal
care which prompts your observations.

For heaven's sake, cara, do not accuse your-
self as though you had been in fault ; there must
always be some truth in the feelings of a great
and noble soul like your own, especially when a
solitude filled with thoughts enlarges it. Yes,

1 On ' Eugénie Grandet'

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 387

depend upon it, I will come to Frapesle, and I
think I may succeed in obtaining the companion-
ship of Madame de Berny ; I found her on my
arrival here yesterday so very ill that I was
seriously alarmed, and I am still in most miserable
anxiety. Her life is so much bound up in mine !
Ah, no one can form any true idea of this deep
attachment which sustains me in all my work, and
consoles me every moment in all I suffer. You
can understand something of this, you who know
so well what friendship is, you who are so affec-
tionate, so good. As soon as I am at rest from
this anxiety, I will write to you. I thank you
beforehand for your offer of Frapesle to her.

There, amid your flowers, and in your gentle
companionship, and the country life, if convales-
cence is possible, and I venture to hope for it,
she will regain life and health. Pardon the in-
coherence of this letter, for I am very uneasy.
I only returned yesterday. The sight of Madame
de Berny has entirely upset me. A thousand
friendly thanks. I am plunging once more into my
work. On February 25 there will appear a por-
tion in two volumes of the ' Études des Mœurs ; '
tell me if I shall send a copy to the Poudrerie or
to Frapesle. Say all that is kind to Auguste.
My ' Séraphita 'is in a very forward state. My

c c 2

388 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

best remembrances to the Commandant, whom I
congratulate on his retirement. Give Ivan a kiss
on the forehead, and keep my tenderest regards
for yourself.

Adieu, you whom I never forget.

Votre tout dévoué.

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Angoulême.

Geneva : January 30, 1834.

My dearest flower of friendship, — Never accuse
me of forgetfulness. I have thought much about
you ; I have even spoken of you with pride, con-
gratulating myself on possessing a second con-
science in you.

The work I have done is nothing compared
with the work that lies before me. ' Séraphita ' is
more cruelly difficult to the author than any other
he has yet undertaken. My liberation makes but
slow progress. The fiasco of the ' Médecin de
Campagne ' and of ' Louis Lambert ' has grieved
me, but I am determined nothing shall discourage
me. By next August I hope to be free ; but by
the month of April I ought, I believe, to be well
advanced. Nevertheless, I shall never let a year
pass over without coming to inhabit my room at
Frapesle.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 389

I am sorry for all your annoyances ; I should
like to know you are already at home, and believe
me I am not averse to an agricultural life, and even
if you were in any sort of hell, I would go there to
join you.

In February you will have my second issue of
' Études des Mœurs.' You have been very little
touched with my poor ' Eugénie Grandet,' which
describes provincial life so well, but I believe a
work which is intended to comprise every shade
of character and all social ranks cannot be under-
stood until it is finished. It will be something
worth doing, if the day comes when twenty
volumes in octavo will be reduced to ten volumes,
so as to be within reach of everybody's purse.
Whilst I have been here, I have written two
'Contes drolatiques;' and the best of them all
(' Berthe la Repentie ') would have been finished
before now had it not been for an influenza, of
which I am still the victim.

Some day, earn, when you read the ' Études
des Mœurs ' and the ' Études philosophiques ' by
your fireside at Frapesle, you will understand why
I write in such an unconnected manner; I am
dazed by ideas which crowd upon me, I am craving
for rest, and I am annoyed besides at my position,
which is that of a bird on a bending branch.

390 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

Germany has bought two thousand copies of
the pirated edition of ' Louis Lambert/ while in
France two hundred copies of the work have not
been sold.

Yet am I writing ' Séraphita/ which is a work
as far superior to ' Louis Lambert ' as ' Louis Lam-
bert ' is above ' Gaudissart/ which Boyet tells me
you never much liked. We will talk about it here-
after. It seems decreed that I shall never have
complete happiness, the happiness of liberation from
debt, nor freedom, except in perspective. But, dear
friend, let me at least tell you now, in the fulness of
my heart, that during this long and painful road four
noble beings have faithfully held out their hands
to me, encouraged me, loved me, and had com-
passion on me ; and you are one of them, who
have in my heart an inalienable privilege and
priority over all other affections ; every hour of
my life upon which I look back is filled with
precious memories of you. Yes ; the egoism of
poets and artists is a passion for art, which
holds their personal feelings in reserve. You will
always have the right to command me, and all
that is in me is yours. When I have any dreams
of happiness, you always take a part in them ; and
to be considered worthy of your esteem is to me a
far higher prize than all the vanities the world can

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 39 1

bestow. No, you can give me no amount of
affection which I do not desire from my heart to
return you a thousand-fold. But, poor slave of
my work that I am, bound to write phrases, I
can give you no sign of my attachment ; I am like
a goat tethered to its stake. When will the
capricious hand of Fortune set me free ? I know
not But, come, I must say adieu ; a letter is a
luxury in my case. I thank you for all your good
things ; your letters do me so much good. There
are a few persons whose approval I desire, and
yours is one of those I hold most dear.

To Madame la Duchesse <T Abranth.

Paris : 1834.

I was working night and day, not even reading
my letters, when you wrote me those two. People
who are on the field of battle, as you know, are
not free to converse nor to let their friends know
whether they are alive or dead. I am dead — dead
from work ; but I send you my book to prove that
the dead do not forget when they have you to
remember, and they are votre tout dévoué.

392 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Charles Béchet, Publisher, Paris.

April 16, 1854.

Madame, — Our third portion of ' Études des
Mœurs ' can hardly appear before May 20. I give
you notice of this, in order that it may not inter-
fere with your commercial arrangements by de-
ceiving you with false hopes. I was obliged to
quit Paris for ten days for the sake of rest I was
so terribly over-fatigued, and before I went I was
confined to my bed for four days. My doctor
ordered me to cease from work entirely.

Nevertheless, this delay will be all for the
benefit of the unpublished portion which I under-
took to supply over and above our agreement —
somewhat rashly. To form a volume of twenty-
four sheets, in addition to the original fourth
volume of the ' Scènes de la Vie privée/ four fresh
sheets must be added, which will mount up to
eight sheets, supposing there to have been twenty-
four in the old edition.

All this work will greatly improve your bar-
gain ; by rendering the edition quite new, and by
suppressing the two first editions of the 4 Scènes,'
the rapid sale of these twelve volumes will be
secured.

I am bound to give you these explanations,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 393

in order that you may understand the alterations
which this unexpected work brings into both the
literary and mechanical execution ; for you can
well understand that an author cannot add four
sheets to an already completed book, without some
little thought, nor intercalate them without some
labour. I shall be in Paris on the 23rd. I cal-
culate that, seconded as I am by M. Barbier,
who works miracles, we shall be able to bring
out the third volume of the 'Scènes de la Vie
privée ' between April 23 and May 20, which will
be altogether fresh unpublished matter ; but it will
require enormous exertion to arrive at this result !

On the other hand, the fourth portion will
only contain eighteen sheets of fresh matter in the
fifty sheets already published, and I shall be able
to take it more leisurely, and it may appear on
June 20. I beg, madame, that you will at the
earliest moment possible exchange with M. Gos-
selin the first and second parts of the ' Études '
for the four volumes of my ' Romans et Contes
philosophiques/ which I am very anxious should
be sold out, and of which he has very few copies
left.

Accept, madame, my sincere respects.

394 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To Madame Emile de Girardin, Paris.

Paris : 1834.

Madame, — Since the day when I had last the
honour of seeing you, I have seen no one. I am
therefore ignorant of who can possibly have told
you that I am offended with you, and wherefore ?
We are not offended with people unless we have
done them some wrong, and the only fault against
you which I can lay to my own charge is that
I have not availed myself of your friendly invi-
tations, but those are reasons which should increase
my regard for you.

I am grateful for your kind remembrance of
me ; but I shall not be able to come to see you for
a long time, for I am plunged into the quagmire of
the proofs and corrections of two works, for which
I am pressed for time. Accept my respectful
homage.

To Madame Emile de Girardin, Paris.

Paris : 1834.

Madame, — Your invitation came after I had
accepted another from which I could not disen-
gage myself. But apart from this, I tell you
frankly that I should feel it inconsistent to come

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 395

to your house to see you, as I can no longer
come when M. de Girardin would be at home.
The regret I experience is caused quite as much
by the blue eyes and blonde hair of a lady, who
I believe to be my best friend — and whom I
would gladly have for mine — as by those black
eyes which you recall to my remembrance, and
which had made an impression upon me. But
indeed, I cannot come. My labours will force me
to bid you farewell for a long time, for as soon as
the third part of ' Les Études des Mœurs ' is pub-
lished, I shall take refuge in the country, and I
shall not return for three months. Accept my
respectful homage, and all kind and gracious
regards ; and do not forget to express my regrets
to Madame O'Donnel, and to those same black
eyes which &c, &c.

To the Baron Gérard, Paris.

Paris : June 8, 1834.

Sir, — What I send has no other end than
the friendly feeling accompanying it ; it was the
copy I had reserved for myself, but I could not
place the author's mite better.

I add to the four published volumes of the

390 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

1 Études des Mœurs ' my first daub, 1 which has
just appeared to-day in a retouched condition ;
though, in spite of my endeavours, I fear the
student's hand is still too visible.

It will be an honour to be permitted to be in
your library.

Accept, sir, the expression of my highest re-
gards.

To Madame Laure Surville, Paris.

Monday, 2 o'clock a.m., 1834.

My good alma sororl — Your husband and
Sophie came yesterday and had a detestable
dinner in my bachelor's den at Chaillot ; this was
all the more provoking, because the kind brother
had been running about all day for me, to see a
house which I wish to buy.

I have just made a good arrangement with
the ' Estafette ; ' the other great papers will all
come back to me in time ; they will need me.
Besides, have they deprived me of my estates
in my brain, my literary vines, and my intellec-
tual woods ? and are there not still remaining
publishers to work them ? These last, not under-

1 The Chouans,

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 397

standing their true interests (you will hardly
believe it), prefer the works which have not
appeared in any review ; this is not the time to
enlighten them : nevertheless, it is certain that a
first impression saves them advertisements, and
the more a work is known, the better it will sell.
Do not make yourself unhappy, there is no danger
yet in the dwelling ; I am tired, it is true, but I am
accepting the invitation of M. de Margonne, and
I am to pass two months at Sache, where I shall
rest and take care of myself. I shall try some
theatrical writing, whilst finishing my ' Père
Goriot/ and correcting ' La Recherche de l'Absolu. 9
I shall begin with ' Marie Touchet/ a proud piece,
which I shall fit up with proud personages.

I will not sit up so late ; do not torment
yourself about this pain in the side. Listen, I
must be just, if vexations bring on a liver com-
plaint, I shall not have stolen it. But stop,
Madame la Mort ! if you come, let it be to re-
place my burden ; I have not yet finished my
task . . . Do not be too anxious, the sky will be
blue again ! . . .

The * Lys dans la Vallée/ is dedicated to Dr.
Nacquart, and the dedication will move him to
tears. I tell him that I inscribe his name on this
stone of the edifice, as much to thank the wise man

398 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

to whom I owe my life, as to honour the friend.
Poor doctor ! he truly merits it.

The ' Médecin de Campagne ' is being re-
printed, it was a failure in the (booksellers') trade.
Is not this pleasant ?

The widow Béchet has been sublime : she
has taken upon herself the expense of more than
four thousand francs of corrections, which were
set down to me. Is not this still pleasanter ?

Well, if God gives me life, I shall have a good
position, and we shall all be happy ; let us laugh,
my good sister, the house of Balzac will triumph.
Shout loudly with me, so that Fortune may hear
us ; and once again, do not torment yourself. . . .

To Madame de Girardin, Paris.

Paris : 1834.

Madame, — I have just enough understanding
and feeling to know that I can say nothing in
my own justification. If I were too much in the
right, I should give you pain, and if I were in the
wrong I should lose in your estimation. Upon
this matter I shall preserve a complete silence,
to all others as I am doing towards you ; but my
determination is irrevocable ; this is not a quarrel
nor a mistake, it is a conviction. I have decided

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 399

that I will not again enter the house of M. de
Girardin, and that, even if I should meet him, he
would be to me as one I had never seen before.
It has given me great pain to be forced to set
aside all your goodness to me, to renounce all
our pleasant conversations. I entreat you to
believe that the cause is both serious and painful.
I shall never be either inimical or friendly towards
M. de Girardin. I shall neither accuse him nor
defend him. Everything will be to me a matter
of indifference, except as it may cause you pain or
pleasure.

Do not accuse me of littleness ; for I think I
am too great to be offended by anyone in the
world. But there are certain sentiments which I
give or withhold ; I cannot be false, I cannot play
a part Your salon was almost the only one where
I found myself on a footing of friendship. You will
hardly perceive my absence ; and I remain alone.
I thank you with sincere and affectionate feeling, for
your kind persistence. I believe you to be actuated
by a good motive ; and you will always find in me
a something of devotion towards you in all that
personally concerns yourself.

400 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To M. Théodore Dablin, Paris.

Paris : 1830.

My dear Dablin, — I am suffering under one of
those frightful prostrations which follow excess. I
am incapable of everything ; it €ill arises from my
having given up strong café noir. Be so kind then
as to put off our dinner until Monday ; if you
cannot, you must let me know. My book will not
appear till Monday ; meantime here is a fresh copy
of the ' Médecin de Campagne.'

Pardon the incoherence of this letter. I am
not able to write. I am in one of those states of
suffering which only God knows.

To Madame Laure Surville, Paris.

Sache : 1834.

My dear Sister, — To-day I am feeling so sad,
that there must be something sympathetic in this
sadness. Is anyone whom I love unhappy ? My
mother — is she ill ? Where is my good Surville ?
Is he well in body and soul ? Have you received
any news about Henry ? — are they good ? You
and your litde ones, are any of you ill ? Write,
and set my mind at rest without delay on all these
points so dear to me. My attempts at plays

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 4OI

have all gone wrong, and I must give up dramatic
writing for the present. The historical drama
requires* great scenic effects, which I do not under-
stand. As to comedy, Molière, whom I would
make my model, is a most heart-breaking master.
It would require days and days to produce any-
thing worth having in this line, and it is just
time that fails me. In every scene there are innu-
merable difficulties, and I have no leisure to set
legs and arms in play. A masterpiece and my name
would open all doors to me, but I am a long way
yet from a masterpiece. That my reputation may
not be compromised, I must find some borrowed
names ; this takes time, and the worst of it is, I have
no time to lose. I regret this, because these works
are more profitable than my books, and would
sooner extricate me from my difficulties.

But it is a long time since I and suffering
measured our strength against each other ; I have
overcome her, I will overcome her again. If I
fail, it will have been the will of Heaven, not
mine.

The pain it gives you to hear of my troubles
ought to check me from speaking of them ; but
how to prevent my too full heart from pouring
itself out to you ? It is not right, however ; it
requires a robust organisation to support the

vol. 1. D D

402 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

torments of an author's life, and that is what you
women do not possess.

I work more than is desirable ; but what would
you have ? When I am at work, I forget my
troubles : it is what saves me ; but you — you forget
nothing ! There are people whom this faculty
of mine offends, and they redouble my torments
by not understanding me.

I ought to insure my life, in order to leave a
little money to my mother in the event of my
death. Can I stand the expense ? I will see about
it on my return.

The time which the inspiration caused by
coffee formerly lasted has now diminished ; it
only gives a fortnight's excitement to the brain —
a fatal excitement, for it causes me horrible pains
in the stomach.

What energy is required to keep the head sane
when the mind suffers so much ! . . . My best
inspirations have, however, always shone out in
my hours of extreme anguish ; they are then
about to shine again. I shall say no more ;
Heaven ought to bestow a more fortunate
brother on such an affectionate sister.

>

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 403

To Madame Laure Surville.

Sache : 1834.

My dear Sister, — Your letter is the first
congratulation I have received on the ' Recherche
de l'Absolu.' Your affection makes you out-speed
the rest of the world . . . You are right, the
praises in the sincerity of which one can believe
do the soul good, and are the rewards of us poor
literary labourers.

I was quite foolishly touched by your kind
words.

I think you are wrong about the longeurs
which you point out ; they have ramifications
throughout the subject which have escaped you.
Also, I stand by Marguerite; no, she is not
an overstrained character, for Marguerite is a
Fleming ; and those women never follow more
than one idea, and they follow their aim doggedly
to the end.

Your criticisms are gentle ; we will talk them
over another time, and if they are repeated br-
others, I will give them consideration. I am here
only to work like a horse, and for nothing else.
On Saturday you will have a manuscript, 'a
grand work,' more moving even than ' Eugenic

d d 2

404 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

Grandet/ or the ' Recherche de l'Absolu.' It has
cost me dear, however !

Much love and tenderness to yourself espe-
cially.

To Madame de Balzac, Chantilly.

Paris : 1834.

My good Mother, — I am like one on the field
of battle and the struggle is desperate. I can-
not reply to you in a long letter ; but I have been
well considering what is the best course to pursue.
In the first place, I think you must come up to
Paris to talk to me for an hour, so that you and
I may understand each other. It is easier for me
to talk than to write, and I think everything
maybe arranged in accordance with what is due to
your own position. Come to me, then, whenever
you wish to come ; here, Rue des Batailles, as at
Rue Cassini, you shall have the bed-room of that
son whose heart your smallest words have the
power to shake, and it is trembling even now.
Come the soonest possible moment. I press you
to my heart, and I wish I were a year older. Do
not make yourself anxious about me ; there is
every prospect of security for my future course.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 405

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Angoulime.

Paris : August, 1834.

Madame, — No, I do not forget you ; but I
am working day and night, and have not a
minute to write to you. I entreat you to let me
have one line to tell me how you are. In a fort-
night you will receive from me two new volumes,
which have cost me much labour. I have only two
more difficulties to arrange, and then I shall have
no more plague from publishers. Gosselin is
disinterested in everything. I have on the one
side Madame Béchet, and on the other a new
publisher named Werdet ; who will neither of
them worry me : then I am looking for a third
publisher to undertake the ' Cents Contes drola-
tiques.' This done, with six months' work, I shall
be free. I shall owe no one either a page or a
sou, and my interest in my own works will be
quite free, and at my own disposal. I shall have
reached this oasis through many troubles and
privations, of which the greatest are sometimes
to have tired the patience of my friends, and
not to have been able to let them see into the
depths of my heart.

I have been meditating a great tragedy which
next year will be a good thing for my mother

40Ô MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

— at least, if the proceeds are as great as my

hopes.

These are the outward incidents of a life full
of sentiments, in which you occupy a large space.
You know this, do you not ?

I have many sorrows just now. Madame de
Berny has had so many troubles falling upon her,
blow after blow, that she is very ill. She is in
the country, and I am forced to be in Paris ! You
can understand all that lies in those few words ;
there is in them both rind and core. I allow
very few people to penetrate to the core.

A thousand tender things to yourself. Kiss
Ivan. A grasp of the hand to the Commandant.

To the Duchesse cT Abrantès^ Versailles.

Paris : 1834.

I will come and see you in two days hence.
Do not sign anything ; do not make any engage-
ment regarding your ' Mémoires/ l I will tell you
some iîne things ! Do not be frightened about
the remainder. 2 Avoid the misfortune of not
being free to make the best of your undertaking.

1 Marne, who had published the first edition of the ' Mémoires
de la Duchesse d'Abrantès,' in eighteen volumes, wished to bring
one out in twelve volumes.

3 The still unsold copies of the first edition.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 407

I have not read the article against you ; but where
and how will you reply to it ? You have friends
at hand, but just now I say to you, ' Take care ! '
A thousand friendly things. On Wednesday,
from four to five o'clock, we will talk over every-
thing.

To Madame de Balzac, Chantilly.

End of September, 1834.

My beloved Mother, — Here I am, having
reached a good haven. I am working like a horse,
and very profitably; but I am made miserable
to fincl I have put you to inconvenience. I did
not calculate properly, and I discovered at the
moment of my departure that you would want five
hundred francs more in order to pay the grocer.
Bah ! the grocer may wait awhile, although now-
a-days V épicier soit roi. I was wise to come here ;
I am better ; almost rested ; and since the second
day I have recovered all my facility for work ;
my hosts are all they ever were.

I consider it will take me fully ten days,
counting from to-day, to finish the ' Père Goriot '
and ' Séraphita,' and to make my corrections for
Barbier. If I can give a lift to ' César Birotteau/
to bring it up to the two-thirds, I will do it

When you or Laura write to Henry, explain

408 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

to him that I cannot write many letters, because
I spend so much time in writing that I have no
time left, except to eat and sleep.

I enclose you the letter for Everat
You will receive in a box which will leave
about Thursday (October 2, I think) the manu-
script of the ' Père Goriot' Remember, that it is
precious and unique. Ask Madame Everat to
lock it up in her cupboard rather than lose it for
me : the Ricourt agreement was lost in this
way ! Anyhow, take all possible precautions : it
is a better work than even * Eugénie Grandet ; ' at
least, I am better pleased with it.

To the Duchesse d* Abr antes, Versailles.

Paris : 1834.

In the name of yourself, I entreat you, do not
enter into any engagement with anybody whatso-
ever ; do not make any promise, and say that you
have entrusted your business to me on account of
my knowledge of business-matters of this kind,
and of my unalterable attachment to yourself per-
sonally.

I believe I have found what I may call living
money, seventy thousand healthy francs, and some
people, who will jump out of themselves, to dispose

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 409

in a short time of ' three thousand D'Abrantès/ as
they say in their slang.

Besides, I see daylight for a third and larger
edition. If Mamifère does not behave well, say
to him, ' My dear sir, M. de Balzac has my busi-
ness in his charge still, as he had on the day he
presented you to me ; you must feel he has the
priority over the preference you ask for.' This
done, wait for me. I shall make you laugh when
I tell you what I have concocted.

If Everat appears again, tell him that I have
been your attorney for a long time past in these
affairs, when they are worth the trouble ; one or
two volumes are nothing. But twelve or thirteen
thousand francs, oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! things must
not be endangered. Only manœuvre cleverly,
and, with that finesse which distinguishes Madame
the Ambassadress, endeavour to find out from
Mame how many volumes he still has on hand,
and see if he will be able to oppose the new
edition by slackness of sale or excessive price.

Your entirely devoted.

4IO MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

To M. Hippolyte Lucas, Paris.

Paris : 1834.

Sir, — You seem far too dangerous a rival
for me to pay you compliments. I read your
pretty novel of the ' Échelle de Soie ' with too
much pleasure to be without fear.

Accept my uneasy congratulations, and my
wishes that you may be an idler ! I thank you
much for sending me your book. 1

To Madame de Balzac, Chantilly.

Paris : November, 1834.

My dear good Mother, — Laura tells me you
have not been very well. I entreat you to take
care of yourself! Nothing is so dear to me as
your health ! I would give half of myself to keep
you well, and I would keep the other half, to do
you service. My mother, the day when we shall
be all happy through me is coming quickly ; I
am beginning to gather the fruits of the sacrifices
I have made this year for a more certain future.
Still, a few months more and I shall be able to
give you that happy life — that life without cares
or anxiety — which you so much need. You will

1 Le Cœur et le Monde.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 4II

have all that you desire ; our little vanities will
be satisfied no less than the great ambitions of
our hearts. Oh, do, I pray you, nurse yourself!
If my affairs had permitted me, I should have
been at Chantilly ; but I must go to England, as
you are aware, for Surville and Laura. Besides,
I have much to pay this month ; but my work
will suffice for that

You have no longer any occasion to torment
yourself about me. Keep your mind at ease,
and think about yourself ; preserve yourself for a
happiness which it will be my happiness to offer
you.

Now that the end is not so distant, I may
speak of it to you. This year you will have two
pleasures. On my birthday, I am quite sure I
shall owe nothing, except to you ; and during the
remainder of the year, I hope to attain a still
greater result ; I hope to be able to amass a
capital for you, of which the first good will be, that
you will henceforth have a guarantee ; « and then
later . . . you will see ! Your comfort in material
things, and your happiness are my riches. Oh !
my dear mother, do live to see my bright future
realised! If you are not better, come again to
Paris for another consultation. If I should go
to Vienna in January, I would try to have enough

412 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC

money to take you with me ; a journey would
perhaps set you up. At any rate, promise me
not to put off coming here for a consultation ;
above all, do not be anxious, do not torment
yourself. If you have a fancy for anything, if
you want anything, no matter what — tell me,
mother, what it is. I may set aside my own
whims, but it does not follow that you are not
to gratify yours.

Adieu ! dear mother ; I kiss you, I embrace
you with a boundless love. I wish this letter
could communicate my health to you, and that
my wishes were as strong as my will.

I have also been thinking of Henry's future ;
I am settling about something, which may be the
means of setting him up creditably, but do not
say anything to him, I do not wish him to think
that he can count upon me.

If there is a 'Revue' at Chantilly, read the
number of November 2 ; you will see that I am
thinking of the future of the families of poor literary
people ; and this time, you know, I have made
use of my ' voix de tribune' Where is my poor
father ? He would have made his dear little
whisper heard on hearing this great and magnifi-
cent letter, which is said to give me literary supre-
macy.

MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC. 4I3

Adieu, again, for all this time is stolen from the
manuscripts !

To Madame Zulma Carraud, Frapesie.

Paris : end of November 1834.

Indeed, cara y you make me into a bad man
and a grand seigneur, out of your own head.
None of my friends either can or will under-
stand that my work has increased, that I must
have eighteen hours a day for work, that I keep
out of the way of the ' Garde Nationale/ which
would kill me. I am like the painters, I have
invented passwords, which are only known to
those who really have serious business with me.
I, a grand seigneur ? Then I must have fallen
into that class whose incomes are pitilessly fixed
and unalterable, and who dare not venture on the
smallest indulgence, unlike those Bedouins who
dare even live on their capital.

Besides my usual work, I am at present over-
whelmed with business, I have to disentangle the
tail of a misfortune. Those fifty thousand francs
have been devoured like burning straw, and I
have still before me fourteen thousand francs of
debt ; which is as much as the twenty-four thou-
sand that I have already paid, for it is the debt
itself, and not the sum more or less which tor-

414 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF BALZAC.

ments rpe. I still need six months more to free
my pen, as I have freed my purse ; and if I still
owe something, it is certain that the profits of this
year will clear me. For all that, I am still in
debt ; these fifty thousand francs are an advance
on the products of my labour.

I have gone further than you, I have told
Auguste not to undertake this journey. He
will lose time ; he does perceive that in all arts
there is a mechanism which must be mastered.
In literature, in painting, in music, in sculpture,
ten years' labour is needed before a man can
understand the synthesis of an art as well as its
material analysis. You cannot be a great painter
because you have seen landscapes, or men, etc ;
one may be able to copy a tree and make it a
masterpiece. It would be better for him to
struggle for two years with light and shade in a
corner, like Rembrandt, who never left his own
house, than to run about America, and to come
back cruelly disenchanted, as he surely would be,
in his political ideas. Your letter has a melancholy
tone which grieves me. I am always hoping to be
able to come and see you, and to prove that neither
time nor circumstance can change Honoré, towards
those who have acquired the right to use that
name.